


Set in Stone

by SilverThunder



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 78,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverThunder/pseuds/SilverThunder
Summary: Yata wasn't sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn't some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn't sure how much of that he could take before he snapped... one way or another.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [dropletons](http://dropletons.tumblr.com/) for being my beta and to [chromiekins](https://twitter.com/chromiekins) for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.
> 
> The explicit rating is for later chapters.

The mingled warm scents from cooking were still lingering in the still air of Yata’s apartment when he stumbled in, muttering curses to himself and kicking the door shut recklessly behind him. It smelled strongly of caraway with the usual traces of cinnamon, remnants of a dinner thrown together with the goal of the evening strongly in his mind.

“Hah!” The sharp exclamation about summed up how well _that_ had gone. Yata resisted the urge to punch the wall, scowling to himself. His odds weren’t improving a fucking bit, even with spells behind him. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong. He’d never failed a cast in the kitchen; that was his specialty. But for some reason, when it came to this…

When it came to his goddamn love life – or in this case, his _sex_ life – nothing seemed to stick.

_Yeah, like I’m gonna get a good love life anyway._ The bitterness of that thought seeped in even through the haze left by the alcohol he’d plugged himself with all night – spending more of his already tight budget than he really should’ve. Yata let out a soft ‘ch’, carelessly shucking his coat and stepping out of the entryway. Without bothering to turn on a light, he pulled up a chair at his overflowing table and flopped into it with an aggrieved huff.

_Fuck this. Why the hell do I bother?_ He didn’t even like clubs. But he kept going back, like a dumbass.

Despite his _situation_ , he still should’ve been able to manage something casual – hell, a one night stand would’ve been fine with him at this point; he could count the number of times he’d hooked up with anyone over the past year on one hand and still have fingers left. It was lame. He wasn’t huge on no-strings-attached, but strings were probably a bad idea anyway given who and what he was.

And he hadn’t gotten laid in months. It fucking sucked.

Yata scowled, frustrated with that thought. It wasn’t the biggest of his problems, but it was one that nagged at him. He’d had just enough sex to know what he liked, and just enough partners who didn't stick around long enough to become anything special to know that he was going to have trouble finding it with someone who mattered. Today was supposed to be the first step in moving towards separating “satisfying sex” from “people who mattered”, but...

As it turned out, _it still fucking mattered_ who the “satisfying sex” was with. It mattered a lot. Even lowering his standards down to “someone who doesn't piss me the fuck off” hadn’t gotten him anywhere.

_What's it take, huh?_ Yata tipped his head back to aim his frown at the ceiling. A one-night stand wouldn't solve his main problem, but it would’ve been a moment of something nice, assuming he found someone he liked at least enough to make it fun.

Outside of the frustration, though, he was still painfully aware of a hollow feeling at his core. It was something that had been growing since he’d gained a full awareness of his particular situation, nearly five years ago. Time hadn't seemed to do much to soften the blow.

Ironically, time was something he had a hell of a lot of...

Either way, that was how it was. Yata raised his head again, taking in his small living space and the dim outline of its contents in the light of the moon streaming through the window. The apartment was plain but comfortable, and he'd spent some time making it _his_ in terms of personal touches. The kitchen, arranged as something of a nook against the rest of the apartment, was full of his tools and favorite herbs, everything arranged the way he liked it. The table was a hand-me-down, but it was small and sturdy, and it filled up the space in the room that had felt bare due to his lack of furniture and TV and other things. From his line of sight, he could even see into the bedroom where his worn but comfortable bed and his portable games and non-cooking spell components were stowed.

It was as good a place as he could make it, and he did like it. So at least if he was gonna be alone, he’d be alone somewhere that made him happy.

Technically, with the promise made to him by Homra, he wouldn't be _totally_ alone, but he couldn’t really wrap his head around that yet. He was only twenty-five. It was gonna be a long time before he had to worry about it. At least right now he had _friends._

Even if getting too attached to them would only hurt him in the end.

The buzz of the alcohol was still fogging his thoughts. Yata made another soft ‘ch’, pulling his mind out of the spiral it was heading for. He’d been there and done that already with the moping around over this crap, so there wasn't anything left to do about it. For now, he could just enjoy what he had.

He couldn’t deny the reality, though... and that reality was that he was lonely. Desperately so. In a way his closest friends and family couldn't ever fully understand.

Fighting against the ache that had risen at the back of his throat in response to that line of thought, Yata turned his head for a distraction. His eyes caught on a large, dark lump on the table beside him, and he reached out without even thinking, pulling the object toward him.

It was a book – Yata remembered now where it had come from. He’d been running errands and collecting materials for the supplier his coven got some of their rare components from – an employer that Kusanagi had vetted for him and who made use of his specific talents in service of earning a comfortable living. This had been a bonus that his boss had thrown in for “going above and beyond”, whatever that meant. Yata didn’t really trust the guy. He smiled a lot and always looked like he knew something nobody else did. It was hard to deal with him, honestly, but whatever, the money was good and he had a working relationship with Homra, so it was worth putting up with. The book had come along with one of those suspicious smiles and a really fucking vague, “I think you'll find something of value in these pages.”

_That guy is always so damn annoying..._

The book was bound in something like hard black leather and had a kind of ominous look to it that Yata wouldn't normally trust. He was planning to take it to Homra. Tomorrow. Tonight he’d had plans, so he’d just thrown it on the table and forgotten about it in his haste to get going with his own shit. Now, though, he felt a little rush of something like anticipation as he lifted it in both hands to examine it more closely.

Sometimes his instincts did that to him – and usually they weren’t wrong.

Fully interested now, Yata brought the book up to eye level, turning so the pale light streaming in from the window would give him a clearer view. He probably could’ve turned the lights on, but it was the next night after a full moon and despite the fact that his personal affinity was with the sun, he did have a natural soft spot for moonlight.

Considering what he was... Yeah. Anyway.

When he opened the cover, the first brown-edged page had an elaborate summoning circle printed on it and nothing else. No words at all for any kind of direction or explanation.

_Weird._ Frowning, Yata turned the page.

Once again, there was just a summoning circle. This one was a bit different from the first, but it still didn't have any words or anything. Flipping through a few more pages, Yata found that the rest of the book was just that: circles. Pictures. Nothing else.

_The hell am I supposed to do with this?_ That guy was nuts. Yata scowled at the book in his hands, still turning pages with a certain amount of agitated energy. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to find, but somehow the anticipation from earlier was mounting. But if there weren't any directions, then...

His thoughts came to a halt as he turned one more page. The circle in front of him wasn't any different from the others – well, other than the subtle changes they all had in the runes and markings – but that feeling seemed to spike as he looked at it. When he reached out to idly brush his fingers over it, somehow it felt like a little jolt of energy extended from the page to travel up from his fingertips to the core of his body, spreading through him like water pouring into an overflowing cup.

_Shit..._ What the hell was that? Yata blinked, sliding his finger up along the curve of the circle as he narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow in confusion. Something about this really drew him in, but he wasn't sure why.

Just... he had a sense. Like this circle held something amazing – seriously _amazing_ – and he wanted more than anything to find out what.

It had been a while since he'd felt like this. It was intoxicating.

Well, maybe that was the alcohol, but who cared? Yata pushed himself up, setting the book open on his kitchen counter as he shoved the table off to the back of the room. The kitchen faced east – he knew that from practice – so he positioned the table directly opposite and the chairs off to the sides, and then hurried into his bedroom to grab some candles and chalk.

Flames to the north, south, east and west – open space in the middle – and small earthenware jars between the candle points, stocked with the herbs he’d grown himself in the planter by the kitchen window. With that arranged and chalk in hand, he was set to sketch out that compelling design.

Yata had never done a summoning before on his own. Well, technically, if he’d been a normal person, he probably wouldn’t have been _able_ to without help. Homra did them from time to time as a group, what with their focus being on fae magic, but apart from supplying some of his energy for the cast, he hadn't really been a part of the complicated stuff. But from what Kusanagi had told him about what he might be capable of… well… He definitely could. Raw power could compensate for a hell of a lot.

If he stopped to think about it, this was kinda stupid and might even get him killed – you didn’t just fuck around with this stuff, and he didn’t even know what the book was for – but the mix of alcohol and that stark anticipation from earlier were making him bold and impatient.

His instincts almost never failed him. This would be good.

It was slow going, sketching out that circle. The amount of detail was stupid. _Why’s it gotta be so complicated, huh?_ Yata was used to action and instinct with his magic – intuiting the right amount of herbs and spices rarely failed him, and he got the satisfaction of smelling the blend as it brewed or baked or stewed to perfection. He had a knack for it, Kusanagi had told him, and it didn’t hurt that his innate energy was so high. This kinda work was not his thing at all, drawing out little details on a rough surface on his knees with his head feeling foggy and impatience and frustrating welling within him as he struggled with it.

Somehow, his hands were pretty steady, though. And he still felt that confident urge pulling at him. Instinct, right. Usually follow those paid off. He could do this.

The better part of a half hour later, he was shaking out his aching hand and pushing himself up off his sore knees to study his work with some measure of satisfaction.

_Got it!_ The circle looked pretty damn close to the book. Maybe a few smudges here and there. Whatever. He hadn’t got any of the details wrong. Maybe. Probably. He had a feeling it was right.

Good enough, anyway. Yata retrieved his matches and lit the candles, interrupting the calm domination of the moonlight in the room with flickering shadowed flame. It gave the whole setup an eerie edge, but it was kinda exciting in a way, too. He found a grin building on his face, the anticipation rolling in his belly in response.

“Let's fucking do this!”

Saying it out loud raised his spirits, too. Yata bent to crouch at the edge of the circle, the kitchen candle directly facing his back and the leather-bound book on the floor behind him.

When Homra did a summoning, Kusanagi was the one who laid out the terms. You couldn’t just summon aimlessly – there had to be a purpose, a condition, and... some other stuff. Incantations? He was pretty sure, but… Yata was having trouble thinking of it. He shrugged a little.

_It’ll probably be okay._ He could just rely on his natural power to cover that other stuff. No harm if it didn’t work, right?

When he set his fingertips down against the chalk line at the outer edge of the circle, he felt that energy course through his body, and the excitement from before rushed in. Yata shut his eyes, letting that feeling soak into his bones, and only opened them again when he had a clear and unyielding goal in his mind.

“Hey. Keep me company, huh?”

As soon as those words were out of his mouth, he felt the room go still – as if all of the latent energy in it had been sucked out. Yata felt a moment of sudden disorientation, his surroundings seeming to spin out from beneath him despite the fact that he was perfectly stationary, and then something rose up from the circle with great force – like a gust of wind, but without the air moving at all. He felt the force of it so strongly that he fell back on his ass, flailing a bit to catch himself with his hands.

The candles in the room snuffed out instantly, the lingering remains of their scent hanging in the air like a persistent memory.

A shadow seemed to grow out from the center of the circle, and Yata barely had space to process that when he felt energy drain from his body in a rush, leaving him gasping and his vision swimming. His arms trembled behind him before giving out, and he could only blink to clear the haze from his eyes as the shadow began to take shape in front of him.

Take... human shape. More or less.

The man in the center of the circle looked as if he'd been carved from that shadow, even as the darkness receded around him. His hair was dark and wild, and his skin was as pale as the moonlight in contrast. His frame was slender, and he wore dark, fitted pants, sleek boots, and thick-framed glasses. Nothing else.

More striking were the solid, smoothly curved brown horns that rose up from that stylish mess of hair – and the wide batwings that extended from his back. Behind him, a whiplike forked tail lashed sharply, dispelling what remained of the shadows.

Yata's befuddled mind was still struggling to process the new development, weighed down by the way his strength seemed to have left him, when the fuzzy image of the man lifted his head so their gazes met, pushing up his glasses with slender fingers as he did.

His eyes were pale blue, almost grey; Yata could see that clearly, despite his inability to make out many other details. They were striking, and not because of their appearance. Somehow, just… Even in the midst of this crazy situation, there was something in those eyes that felt hauntingly familiar to him.

_What…?_ It felt like his heart leaped up into his throat for a moment; it was difficult to breathe. _Why?_

That feeling only held for an instant – barely long enough for his befuddled brain to acknowledge it – and then the reality of the situation struck all at once. Along with the sudden draining of what remained of his energy.

_Fuck..._ It was a struggle to even keep his eyes open, but this wasn’t good... It wasn’t good at all...

The demon he’d just inadvertently summoned clicked his tongue sharply, mouth abruptly turning down in what looked like baffled irritation, and spoke in a low, flat tone. “Are you some kind of idiot or what?”

That was the last thing that registered before his brain gave up and sank into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

When Yata drifted awake again, the first groggy thought that managed to penetrate the haze of sleep he was caught up in was that he’d had a really fucked up dream the night before.

The second was the realization that he was _sleeping on the goddamn floor_.

And the third was that he felt like shit, and was probably hungover.

“Fuck.” The word came out as a low croak; without opening his eyes, Yata reached up to shakily pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Are you finally awake?” That was an unfamiliar voice.

Yata's eyes shot open in response, and he winced as the sunlight hit them, blinking rapidly and then squinting as he found his bearings.

He was lying on the floor in his apartment, and it was probably about mid-morning. His head was starting to throb, his throat was dry, and there was a vague queasiness roiling in his belly. His skin and hair felt grimy with dried sweat, and he was halfway lying on something flat and rectangular. And when he turned his head…

Yup, that was definitely the guy from the night before peering down at him with what looked like bored irritation. He hadn’t got a really good look, but those eyes were damn familiar. Cool and blue-grey, framed by long lashes, and flatly uncaring.

He was still different from the night before, though. Yata struggled to remember the details, but he was pretty sure... well. There were no horns. No wings. No thin, forked tail. The guy in front of him looked... normal. He was fully dressed, and nothing about his appearance was out of the ordinary. Jeans, slippers – Yata’s slippers, actually – and a grey shirt with a dip in the neckline and quarter-length sleeves. He was on the thin side, but not unattractively so, and his features were elegant – almost beautiful, if not for the displeasure writ into his expression. He was frowning sharply.

_Did I imagine the demon stuff?_ Hell, had he gotten laid last night after all and just didn’t remember? That would suck, but not as much as the alternative. And this guy was sorta hot actually, now that he looked closer – definitely Yata’s type.

Maybe he wouldn't mind that much...

If anything, the frown on the guy’s face deepened. “You’re even worse when you're awake,” he muttered, as if that made sense, and clicked his tongue. “Do you at least remember your idiot move from last night? It will make this less annoying if I don’t have to explain from the beginning.” He raised the mug in his hand to take a sip of coffee.

The mug that _belonged to Yata_ in his hand, and – fuck – that had to be the last of his coffee, too. _What’s with that, you just help yourself to whatever you want?_ He pushed himself up to a sitting position with a scowl, pulling the flat object out from him almost absently, and narrowed his eyes at his unexpected visitor. “I didn’t dream that shit up?”

“How often do you dream about summoning otherworldly beings?” the man drawled back at him, raising an eyebrow condescendingly. “Take a look at your floor if you need a refresher.”

Yata looked. The remains of his chalk circle was still laid out, with the details smudged where the shadow had extended out from the center. It was no longer a workable summoning circle, but it definitely _had_ been, before.

Without thinking, he glanced down at the flat object in his hands. The leather-bound book. Of course.

_Shit._ Kusanagi was gonna kill him. What the hell had he been thinking? Yata groaned, the full stupidity of his previous night’s actions sinking in, and reached up to run a hand through his hair, thoughts going a mile a minute.

What the fuck was he supposed to do? Was this guy really a demon? What did he want? Was he supposed to hang around like this after everything, looking like a normal fucking person?

“Stop that,” the guy nearly growled at him, low and clearly irritated. He was scowling back when Yata looked up at him. “You’re giving me a headache. Can't you feel things in moderation?”

“Huh?” Yata blinked at him, momentarily taken aback, and then narrowed his eyes. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

The man – demon? – clicked his tongue again, letting out a sigh that sounded impatient. “I don’t know why I expected you to know anything.” Without pausing for a reply, he went on. “As long as we’re in contract and I’m feeding off of your energy, I get the feedback of your emotions as extra baggage.”

“My emo – Wait, what?” Yata stared at him, his foggy brain barely starting to connect the pieces together. “What contract?”

“You didn’t even know that much?” His visitor raised an eyebrow at him scornfully. “What the hell were you doing with a summoning circle if you’re that ignorant?”

This guy was a serious pain in the ass. Yata scowled back. “Yeah, screw you too, asshole! None of your fucking business, by the way.” Ignoring the way his head was throbbing at him, he pushed himself painstakingly to his feet. His legs wobbled a bit, but he did his best not to let it show as he made his way towards the kitchen nook. “Just explain the damn contract thing.”

The man clicked his tongue again, reaching up to rub at his temple. “This is going to be a pain,” he muttered, and then went on without giving Yata the chance for a retort. “To put it in a way your simple mind will understand... you summoned me, and I accepted your stated terms and responded. That puts us in contract until one or both ends are fulfilled.”

Yata didn't bother to look at him, assessing the coffee pot instead. There was enough for another cup, which was exactly what he needed. He set the book down on the counter and reached up to his cupboard door. “‘Stated terms’?”

“How did you you put it again? Oh, right.” That condescending drawl again. “‘Keep me company, huh?’ So eloquent.”

His cheeks burned at that. Fuck, right, he'd been drunk and stupid and... lonely. Again. Yata scowled, slamming the mug he’d pulled out of the cupboard down onto the counter. “Shut up! I didn’t expect a fucking _demon_ to come out, okay?” Hell, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Some kind of mascot for his life? The picture in the book had made him feel so sure that it would be something good, and he got this grumpy asshole instead.

“What exactly _were_ you expecting? It’s a summoning circle.”

“Not _you!_ ” Someone or something who’d work with him. Someone cool, given the way his instincts had pulled at him. Someone who’d make him happy, at least. “Anyway, why’d you respond if you didn’t like it?”

The demon clicked his tongue again, and Yata turned in time to see him turn his head aside, a disgruntled expression on his face. “It seemed like an easy contract at the time,” he muttered, and then seemed to recover his confidence. “‘Keep me company’, with no additional conditions and no set timeframe?” He offered a dark smirk as his eyes slid back, eyelids lowering dangerously. “As long as I’m _here_ , my contract holder’s energy feeds me. It wouldn’t take more than a day or so to drain it all, and then the contract ends naturally.” The gaze he fixed on Yata was almost predatory. “An entire life’s worth of energy would sustain me for years. There was no reason to hold back.”

An involuntary shudder run through him at that – and embarrassingly enough, it wasn’t entirely from revulsion at the cold way this guy talked about killing people. That tone... and that gaze... Damn. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ This was a _demon_ talking about _killing_ someone, and that ‘someone’ could’ve been him. He seriously needed to get laid, and fast - this was fucked up. Yata turned back to his coffee, trying to repress that sharp twinge of interest and the disturbing things it might say about him. “What the hell? That’s creepy...”

“If you say so. I’m a demon, after all – remember?” The tone was unconcerned – and maybe a little on the smug side. _Cocky jerk._ “I told you earlier that I’m getting feedback from _all_ of your emotions, right?”

Yata’s face grew hot again; his fingers tightened on the mug as he snatched up the sugar. “S-so what?” he snapped back, caught off balance by the embarrassing reveal.

“Just thought I’d remind you.” That drawl was starting to get seriously annoying. “Either way, I wasn’t expecting _you_ when I came up here.” When Yata glanced at him, the demon was giving him a narrow look. “What exactly are you, anyway?”

There it fucking was – the question that was bound to come up. No point avoiding it or drawing this out. “Changeling,” Yata answered shortly, snatching up a spoon and busying himself with stirring.

It wasn’t like he was new to it... Hell, it would’ve been impossible to _not_ know that he was different, right from the start. And it had been almost five years since Anna had answered that question once and for all. There was a reason he’d been drawn to Homra, even before he knew what kind of potential he had as a witch. A _non-human_ witch. A coven that specialized in fae magic was his best chance at fitting into a society that he’d been wrongly born into from the start.

A society that he was gonna have to live in for longer than any normal human could expect to.

“Seriously?” His visitor clicked his tongue, tone irritable. “That explains the _boundless_ energy, true, but you’re... not what I’d expect.”

Him and everyone else. Yata barked out a sharp ‘hah’, tossing his spoon in the sink and turning to face the other man, a smirk spreading on his lips in return. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He got an unimpressed gaze for his trouble. “And you’re expected to live... how long? Several centuries?”

It was an effort to keep up the smirk. Yata took a sip from his coffee to cover the moment of weakness. The warmth and the familiar thick taste seemed to seep into his bones, settling some of the symptoms of his hangover. “Something like that.”

Long enough to outlive his entire family – not to mention everyone at Homra – and probably several generations of their descendants. It was still a daunting prospect.

The demon scowled back at him. “ _I_ might die before you do, then. How annoying.”

_You and everyone else._ “So what?” Yata returned the scowl, headache flaring up again. “What do you care when I die?”

“I care because your contract doesn't have an end, idiot.” That came with a look of flat disgust. “And I don't have a hope in hell of draining _all_ of your energy at any point, even if it wasn't regenerative. Which means we’re trapped like this until one of us dies of old age.” He paused there, and clicked his tongue. “Or I kill myself. Which actually sounds appealing at this point.”

“Fuck you!” Yata shot back, mostly out of reflex. He was reeling from the unexpected revelation. _Trapped? With this asshole?_ It sounded like a nightmare. “What the hell do you mean we're _trapped_? You’re a fucking demon! Can't you do something about this?”

“Believe it or not,” the drawled response came, laced with heavy irritation, “demons are still accountable to the laws of high magic.” He clicked his tongue again – Yata was starting to think that was an unconscious habit. “I accepted your contract under the terms you laid out, and I don't have any power to end it now.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Yata didn't wait for a response, curling his free hand into a fist and slamming it into his counter with helpless anger. “This is bullshit! What the hell?” He took in a long breath, trying to steady himself. “There’s gotta be something we can do!”

“I would’ve taken it to my boss,” his unwilling companion responded drily. “But unfortunately, I’m bound by the terms of the contract, which some idiot declared as – ”

_‘Keep me company’._ “Yeah, _I get it_.” Yata scowled again, more agitated than ever. He’d managed to fuck himself over good with that moment of weakness. “So you need me along to go see him, right?”

“Amazing. You figured that much out.” The demon took a sip of his coffee, ignoring Yata’s glare. “I recommend cleaning yourself up first, but it’s up to you. _I’ve_ got all the time in the world.”

Yata felt his eyebrow twitch. _What a fucking asshole._ His instincts must’ve been drunk along with the rest of him if _this_ was what they led him to. “Your boss is gonna sort this out, right? I don’t know how much more of you I can stand.”

“The feeling is mutual, believe me.”

_Let's get this over with, then._ Yata tipped his head back and downed the rest of his coffee, wincing when the move stirred the dull ache back to a full pounding at the back of it. “Right. So what do I call you, anyway?”

Another thin eyebrow raised at him. “Why?”

The already frayed edges of his patience were fast unraveling now. “Look, I’m fine to just go with ‘asshole’, but we're stuck together for now, right? Let's at least be fucking civil.”

The demon clicked his tongue again. “Fine. Fushimi Saruhiko.”

“Fushimi…” That was an unexpectedly normal-sounding name. Yata recalled the batlike wings and curved horns from his hazy memory, and tried not to show his surprise. The recollection came along with the unwelcome knowledge that Fushimi hadn’t been dressed from the waist up, too... “Right, cool!” Yata blurted, pushing that blurry image as far to the back of his mind as he could. “Mine is – ”

“Yata Misaki. I know.” At Yata's confused look, Fushimi smirked again. “I found your mail.”

“My – ” It took a moment for that to sink in. “Wait, hold up, _what?_ ” Yata stared at him, outrage building fast behind his chest wall. “You were going through my stuff? What the hell?”

Fushimi shrugged, unrepentant. “You were the one who passed out as soon as I got here. Since you were ungracious enough to invite me in and then leave me to my own devices, I had to entertain myself somehow.” He took another sip of coffee, lidded eyes following Yata as he did.

Something about that gaze made him want to squirm – partly because it was kind of hot being regarded so intently, and partly out of discomfort because he didn’t know _why_. “Read a fucking book or something, then! Don’t just go through people’s stuff without asking!” A horrifying thought occurred to him then. “Wait – you didn’t go through my bedroom, did y – ?”

“Yes, I found your lube. And condoms. And porn.” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I don’t know what you have to be embarrassed about. You think I haven’t seen it all? The two most common contracts are ‘take revenge on my enemies’ and ‘indulge my sexual kinks’. You seem relatively vanilla compared to some of what passes through my queue.” The corners of his mouth edged up into another of those condescending little smirks. “Unless it’s the fact that the porn has clearly seen more use than the condoms that’s got you so defensive…?”

“Th-that’s – ” For a moment, he was too flustered to do more than sputter helplessly as his face grew hot again. Yata scowled. “None of your damn business!”

“Hm.” Fushimi took another sip from his coffee, clearly unconcerned. “That explains why I smelled caraway. I’m guessing the spell didn’t take?” He raised an eyebrow, still with the edge of a smirk on his lips. “Or maybe it did the best it could. Am I your type, maybe?”

_Ugh._ The worst part about that was how true it was – physically, at least. Yata set his empty mug down with an angry thud. “Fuck off!” With one final scowl for his unwanted companion, he turned. “Gonna go shower.”

“Bullseye, huh?”

Yata lifted his hand to offer a rude gesture over his shoulder in return, too agitated to trust himself with a real response. After stopping just long enough to grab some clean clothing, it felt incredibly satisfying to slam the door shut behind him as he stepped into his tiny bathroom.

He already couldn’t handle this fucker, and it hadn’t even been half an hour. Yata paused for a moment just inside the door, giving himself space to cool off. He’d never been good at getting his emotions under control – they had a tendency to run wild, which was going to be fucking _great_ with an eavesdropper hanging around – but he was getting better at not letting them make his decisions for him.

Well… when he wasn’t _drunk_ , anyway.

It was hard not to be painstakingly aware that the _strong emotion_ thing was probably a factor in his struggles to get laid, too. Yata unclenched his fists with effort, rolling out his shoulders to try and relax them. It’d taken a lot of trial and error and some hard self-examination on his part, but he eventually had to acknowledge that he was too much for some people, and he just had to suck that up. In school he’d tried shrinking himself to fit in and it had failed miserably, both because he couldn’t make it stick and because most of his classmates hadn’t liked him anyway. These days, he was more unapologetically himself and didn’t bother with anyone who couldn’t handle it, even as he tried to reign in his unruly temper and not run roughshod over the feelings of the people around him.

It wasn’t always easy, but he was doing his best.

_Well, whatever._ Yata took the opportunity to empty his bladder in the toilet tucked into a nook at the back of the room before stripping his clothes and reaching into the shower stall to start the water. Normally if he was hungover he’d stop by the bathhouse on the ground floor of his building and soak for a while, but he didn’t have that luxury now.

Hopefully they could get this over with quick, and he’d never have to think of Fushimi again.

_“Am I your type, maybe?”_

“Shut up,” Yata muttered, stepping in under the shower spray and pulling the stall shut behind him. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to brush off that edge of frustration.

Yeah, if Fushimi had found his porn, he could see where that assumption would come from, even without the whole emotion-sharing thing. It was all gay porn, for one thing. He still couldn’t handle women very well, and even just the notion of thinking about them _that_ way made him uncomfortable. Plus, he liked having sex with men. A lot.

And talking about his type… Dark and slim with devastating eyes was... Yeah.

Didn’t mean he’d hook up with any old asshole who looked something like that, though. Yata scrubbed furiously at his hair, as if it could wash those thoughts from his head at the same time. He wanted to at least _like_ the people he had sex with, and that didn’t seem possible in this case, even if sex was on the table in the first place. Though he did kinda wonder what ‘sexual kinks’ would go through a demon’s queue. Did Fushimi ever take any of them up on it?

What the hell _would_ a demon be like in bed, anyway? Considering those smoldering looks, maybe –

_Fuck. Don’t even go there, goddamnit!_ Yata tipped his head back abruptly under the spray, lip curling in disgust at his own lack of control. He didn’t want that thought in his head. No matter how hot this guy was, he was still a major dick, and the sooner he was gone and Yata could erase his memory of this entire incident, the better.

And then maybe he could work on finding someone cool to have sex with, and he wouldn’t get so worked up over a stupid smirk and some dangerous glances.

He didn’t linger in the shower for long, toweling himself briskly and pulling on the clean shirt, underwear and shorts he’d brought in with him. Tucking the towel around his neck, Yata ran a hand through his hair to wring the water from it before taking in a long breath, letting it out in a rush as he reached for the door.

_All right, let’s do this!_

Fushimi was leafing through the leather-bound book, but he looked up when Yata re-entered the room. There was a frown on his face and his eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “Where exactly did you get this?”

“Huh?” Yata returned the frown, puzzled. “The guy I do work for gave it to me as a bonus yesterday. Why?”

It might’ve been a dumb question – obviously if you were a demon, you’d probably wonder where someone got a book with your summoning circle in it – but Fushimi didn’t seem interested in pointing that out. He closed the book, muttered something like ‘annoying’ under his breath, and sighed in a long-suffering sort of way. “Take me to meet this ‘guy’ of yours.”

Yata stared at him, nonplussed. “The hell? _Now?_ I thought we were gonna go to your boss and get this shit sorted.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, still looking irritated. “I need to confirm something first.”

“Don’t just decide that on your own!” Yata scowled back, irritated in response by the imperious attitude. “Anyway, if you’re gonna ask me a _favor_ , you could at least be less of a dick about it!” He folded his arms stubbornly. “What if I don’t wanna take you there, how about that?”

“What if I just leave us the way we are, then?” Fushimi drawled back. There was an edge of annoyance in his tone this time.

“What if you just _ask_ instead of ordering me around?” Yata shot back, feeling his temper rise again. “You’re already staying in my place and drinking my coffee and going through my goddamn stuff _without asking_ – isn’t there anything you’re _not_ a complete rude asshole about?”

For a brief moment, that seemed to hang in the air between them. Fushimi’s blue-grey eyes were inscrutable. And then he made another sharp ‘tsk’, mouth tightening with annoyance. “Fine. _Can_ you take me to the person who gave you this book?”

The emphasis on ‘can’ made it seem more like a question of Yata’s ability rather than a request, but it was probably about as much of a concession as he was going to get. “Heh!” Feeling a tiny sense of triumph in the midst of the annoyance the morning had wrought on him, Yata managed a grin in return and reached up to slide the towel from around his neck.

“Since you asked so _nicely_ , why not?”


	3. Chapter 3

It was cloudy outside, which wasn’t unusual, and there was a mid-Spring chill in the air still. Yata threw a hoodie on over his T-shirt before they left the apartment, but Fushimi seemed more or less indifferent to the weather.

“Aren’t you cold like that?” Yata asked him as they turned off the walkway leading from the apartment complex onto the sidewalk.

“I don’t have the same body temperature as a human,” Fushimi responded blandly. He was walking with slightly hunched shoulders, hands in his pockets. It made him look even more like a regular person, which made the previous night feel even more like some kind of weird dream and not an actual thing that had happened and potentially fucked up Yata’s life. “Or a changeling, apparently.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata glanced around just to be sure, but nobody seemed to be paying them the slightest attention. Not that they’d be taken seriously even if someone heard… “I’m not that much different from a regular human. Just the aging thing and – ” He stopped there, abruptly unsure how much he wanted to give away.

Fushimi gave him a sidelong look. “And…?”

“Never mind.” Yata shook his head slightly. Better not to reveal _all_ his secrets. If they had to stay together long enough, he’d find out pretty quick, but that didn’t mean there was any reason to tell him _now_. “I’m not that different, s’all.” He managed a bit of a smirk. “I don’t have horns or anything.”

The typical click of Fushimi’s tongue answered him. “I could fix that for you pretty easily.”

“Hah! No thanks.” Yata shook his head, smirk widening as he turned back. “Y’know, I’m not _totally_ ignorant about this summoning business. I’m the one who summoned you, right? I know you can’t do anything to me that I don’t want.”

The expression on Fushimi’s face turned sour; Yata couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “You don’t like losing much, do ya?”

“That’s a stupid thing to say,” Fushimi muttered back. “Nobody enjoys losing.”

Yata’s spirits were buoyed enough by the small victory that he let that one pass. “Anyway, we got a few blocks to go to get to the station. Usually I’d use my skateboard or – ” He caught himself in time, and cleared his throat instead of continuing. “Well, you’re slowing me down, but whatever.”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “Would you rather I followed you from the air?”

That… actually wouldn’t have been a bad idea, if it wasn’t shitty timing. “We’re in public, dumbass!” Yata reached up to scratch the back of his head, annoyed that he hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Look, if you’re still around later, I’ll find some place to cast invisibility and – wait.” He squinted at Fushimi, realizing belatedly that he really had no idea how demon magic worked. “Can you make yourself invisible?”

“No. Unfortunately.” The answer came with another almost petulant click of Fushimi’s tongue; he frowned. “If I could, I’d have done it already and not have to deal with navigating your world in the first place.”

“Right, right.” Made sense; no point doing things the hard way if you didn’t have to. “Anyway, I can do it for you later and then you can race me if you really want.” He couldn’t help a smirk at that. “I’m pretty fast, though – just sayin’.”

Almost reluctantly, the corners of Fushimi’s mouth edged up in response. There was a flicker of something like interest in his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Better believe it is!”

“Hm.” Without losing the tiny smirk, Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a small, amused huff. “We’ll see.”

The exchange was oddly enjoyable – and the prospect of a challenge had Yata feeling fired up. “All right!” He folded one hand into a fist, raising it with enthusiasm. “Let’s get this shit done and I’ll show you!”

“So noisy,” Fushimi muttered, but it lacked most of the frustration of earlier.

They walked in silence for a bit. It was an uneasy silence – like a temporary truce had been called – but it wasn’t horribly uncomfortable. Yata wasn’t sure if it was more of a relief not to have to defend himself from constant verbal attacks or… kind of a disappointment. For all he’d been an asshole, Fushimi was strangely fascinating. Or maybe not so strangely. He was a demon, after all – that was kinda cool, and it was something Yata didn’t know a heck of a lot about. If they’d been on better terms, he might’ve asked about what that was like.

Where did Fushimi live when he wasn’t being summoned? What did he do all the time? Did he have a family? Friends? Hobbies?

Yata stole a glance sideways at the man walking next to him. He looked perfectly normal – well-structured features, yeah, but not a vision of perfection by any stretch. His clothing, posture, habits, and general appearance were all that of any regular guy. He didn’t seem phased by the apartment or city. Did that mean he lived somewhere like this? Was the place demons lived another whole plane of existence, like the fae that Homra dealt with?

Fushimi seemed to notice he was being scrutinized, because he tilted his head slightly and met Yata’s gaze. “What?”

“Huh?” Yata blinked, caught off-guard, and shifted his eyes forward instead, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh. Nothing. My bad.”

He could almost hear the frown in Fushimi’s response. “If you say so.”

The feeling of eyes on him made his skin prickle in a way that wasn’t… totally unpleasant. Yata made an attempt to shrug it off, letting his hand drop and deliberately increasing his pace. “S’not much farther. C’mon.”

The subway station was crowded as usual – it wasn’t _too_ bad with it being past noon on a weekday, but rush hour would start in an hour or so, and if they weren’t quick, it might be hell coming back. At the moment, the traffic was just a steady stream, which meant there’d be more than enough standing space in the trains, but having to pack in like sardines wasn’t fun, even if he could be sure Fushimi wouldn’t do anything if he got annoyed enough.

Yata frowned, considering it. _I might end up having to show him after all…_

“Are we going in?” Fushimi’s voice cut into his thoughts. He’d slowed to a stop when Yata had, and was studying him with that inscrutable expression.

“Uh – yeah.” Except… tickets. Which was no problem for Yata, since he had a transit pass, but… “Shit. I forgot I’ll have to buy you a ticket.” He pulled out his wallet, checking the meager supply of cash he kept on him.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Don’t bother.” Before Yata could react to that, he turned, stepping into the path of a random man. “Hey. You.”

_What the hell is he doing?_ Yata stared after him, momentarily stunned into inaction.

The man who’d just been accosted blinked, openly startled. “Uh… me?”

“That’s right.” Fushimi indicated to the paper in his hand. “Did you just buy that ticket?”

“Uh…” The man lifted the ticket and looked at it, as if needing to confirm, and then squinting dubiously at Fushimi. “Yes?”

“Good. Which way is the ticket station?”

“Oh!” The more innocuous question seemed to relieve the man, who turned with much more confidence to wave in the direction he’d come from. “Just back there – you can’t miss ’em!”

“Thanks.” Stepping around the man – who seemed happy enough to scurry off without a backward glance, Fushimi made his way back towards Yata.

“What the hell was that ab – ?” The protest died in his throat as he watched Fushimi hold his hand in front of his body, fingers curling as a small square of paper appeared from thin air within them.

“Let’s go then,” Fushimi drawled, deftly turning the paper to reveal the ticket information printed on it.

Yata gaped at him, unable to help. “You – hold up – how’d you _do_ that?”

Fushimi’s answering look was flat. “Magic.”

“I never saw magic like _that_.” He was used to components – incantations – runes – channeling… Not just making things appear out of thin air. Who _did_ that?

Well, okay, demons – but still!

Fushimi sighed, sounding long-suffering. “You’re going to be tiresome about it, huh?” He held the ticket between two fingers and slid them apart slowly. The paper dissipated between them, leaving no trace behind. “It’s illusion. The ticket isn’t really here.” He brought his fingers back together, and the ticket manifested again between them. “Demonic magic is all about fooling the senses. Starting with mine and ending with everyone else around me.”

“Really?” It sounded so simple. Yata reached out automatically towards the ticket, and felt his fingers brush the paper. It _felt_ real. “I can touch it, though.”

“I said your senses, not just your sight.” Fushimi clicked his tongue, withdrawing his hand. “Shouldn’t we go? We’re going to look suspicious just standing around here.”

That was true – a glance around showed a few people giving them curious looks. Yata frowned back at them, and they quickly looked away. “Yeah, yeah, fine,” he gave in grudgingly, tearing his eyes from the ticket in Fushimi’s hand to pull his pass out. “Let’s go.”

There was a small line-up at the ticket gate, so Yata took the opportunity to continue his line of inquiry in an undertone. “Hey. So why’d you have to stop that guy back there?”

“I needed to see what a ticket looked like.” Fushimi’s voice was almost a mumble – barely audible over the chatter around them. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to make one, would I?”

“Huh.” That kind of brought up an alarming thought, though. “Wait, you didn’t just copy his ticket, did you? Because – ”

“Keep your voice down, will you?” Fushimi cut him off sharply. He frowned. “Of course I didn’t – I’m not an idiot. The barcode is based on a time stamp.” His tone was flat and matter-of-fact. “Once I saw what his looked like, I calculated mine based on a different time stamp.” He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. “It’s unlikely that anyone here will have an exact duplicate, but even if that happens, I can pretend it didn’t scan properly and change it to a different one.”

Yata stared at him, astonished. “You figured that out in your _head_?”

Fushimi shrugged. “It’s not that hard.”

“Seriously? It’s fucking amazing!” The grin spreading on his face was almost involuntary. Damn, this was actually _cool_. Fushimi was a damn genius. “All you did was glance at his ticket, and you figured that all out in like – what – thirty seconds? Not even!” It was impressive as hell; he couldn’t help the admiration flooding through him. “That’s awesome!”

For a moment, Fushimi just blinked at him, clearly taken off-guard. It was almost charming. He recovered quickly, though, clicking his tongue and turning his gaze to the side. “Don’t be so loud,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, right.” Yata shrugged that off, stepping forward again as the line advanced. He eyed the gate. “Even if it’s an illusion, it’ll still go through okay, right?”

“If I can fool a person, I should be able to fool a machine,” Fushimi responded drily.

He ended up being right about that – the ticket scanned with no problems, allowing them to pass through to the platform and then the train without incident. Yata bit back the storm of questions raging around inside his brain while they boarded and rode the subway, waiting impatiently for them to be in the open where there was less chance of being overheard.

Unfortunately, the aisle where they stood side-by-side on the train car had them facing a group of four girls who looked like they should’ve been in school at that time of day. Yata did his best not to look at them, growing increasingly uncomfortable. Every time he happened to glance down at where they were sitting, at least one of them quickly averted her eyes and the whole group giggled nervously. It was a stressful experience.

“You’re not very good with women, are you?” Fushimi commented blandly as they – finally – stepped off the train.

“Shut up,” Yata grumbled in response, trying to shrug off the tension that had collected in that cramped space. He’d never managed to figure out where that discomfort came from – it was just something to do with the way it felt when women were looking at him. Like they could see through him, in a way that men couldn’t somehow. He was old enough now to know it was irrational, and he seriously was getting better at dealing with it, but his feelings didn’t always cooperate. “What’s it to you?”

The question was ignored. “Is that why you prefer men, maybe?”

“Not so loud!” Yata glanced around furtively as they pushed through the doors leading out of the station, but it didn’t seem like their conversation had attracted any attention. _Good._ He wasn’t particularly ashamed of his preferences – not any more, anyway – but it pissed him off when people gave him those _judgy_ looks. It was none of their fucking business.

Actually, it wasn’t Fushimi’s business either, but hell if he was gonna let _that_ stupid misconception go. “I like guys because I like guys. That’s it.” Automatically, he reached up to scratch at the back of his head, letting out a frustrated breath. “Dunno if I’d be bi or something if it wasn’t for the… women thing, but that’s how it is.”

He could feel Fushimi’s eyes on him. It was unnerving, like his thoughts were being read right through his skull. The part he hadn’t admitted – and wasn’t _going_ to admit – was that there were things he’d found he liked in bed that he wasn’t likely to get from a woman, at least not without having to bring it up in a really awkward way. Things he didn’t really feel like doing without, honestly. It made any speculation on that subject moot, more or less; he could safely consider himself exclusively gay.

That was going _way_ too personal for a conversation with someone he barely knew and didn’t even particularly like that much. Yata hastily changed the subject, picking up his pace just enough to lead them in the right direction onto the sidewalk outside. “Anyway, you said demon magic was illusions, right? Can you put illusions on _anything?_ Like, make things look like something else, and all?”

“More or less.” Thankfully, Fushimi picked up the new topic without any fuss. “There are rules, though. I can only make things seem like they’ve changed – or that they exist in the first place, when they don’t already.” He held up the ticket again between his index and middle finger before giving them a wriggle and brushing off the illusion as if it were dust. “I can’t make things disappear if they exist in reality. But you know…” At that he smirked a little, glancing sideways at Yata again. “The things I make are real enough. An illusionary knife will still cut.”

Yata frowned back at him, shaking off the involuntary shudder that came with the statement. “You’re creepy as hell, y’know that?”

“Demon,” Fushimi drawled in response, without losing an inch of the smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yata grumbled, vaguely annoyed by the tone. “If your magic is all _illusion_ , doesn’t that mean you could just make yourself look like a bird or something instead of going invisible when you fly?”

“I can’t use illusions on myself.” At that, the smirk did lessen, shifting toward a frown. “It’s awkward, but sometimes you can work around it. External things like clothing work, for example.”

“Huh.” The word was barely out of his mouth before an outrageous possibility entered his head. Yata turned to stare, vaguely alarmed. “Hey, wait – does that mean – those clothes you’re wearing now – ?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I don’t exactly bring a wardrobe with me when I respond to a summon.”

Yata tripped over his own feet and just about fell, stumbling a few steps as he stared at Fushimi incredulously. “The _hell?_ Doesn’t that mean you’re walking around” – He felt his cheeks flare up as outrage mounted within him, and lowered his voice, glancing around furtively for any possible eavesdroppers – “ _naked?_ ”

“Would you like me to?” That smirk was edging up on Fushimi’s face again, slow and wicked. “It seemed like you were trying _not_ to attract attention earlier, but it makes no difference to me.” His voice had shifted back to a mocking drawl, but there was an undercurrent of interest in the lazy gaze he shot Yata’s way. “By the way… that’s an awfully strong reaction for someone who can’t tell the difference. What are you imagining?”

The blurred image of a pale-skinned bare torso flashed to the front of Yata’s mind, and he nearly choked, the warmth on his face intensifying. “I-I’m not imagining anything!” Setting his mouth into a scowl to cover his embarrassment, he deliberately increased his pace to put a little space between them. “It’s weird to think about, okay? That’s all!”

“Is it?” The response was light and unaffected. “Because your emotions say otherwise.”

That was irritating enough that Yata shot him a glare over his shoulder. “Shut up, asshole,” he gritted out, before turning back deliberately. “Can’t wait to get you out of my head and out of my _life_ already!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, the drawl giving way to irritation. “You’re not the only one.”

There was no point justifying that with a response. Yata distracted himself by turning his attention to his surroundings, despite having come this way often enough to more or less know the place by heart. This was part of the city’s business district, so they were surrounded by high rise buildings. The streets were wide and well-kept, crowded with cars even at this hour, and the sidewalks were mostly occupied by professionally dressed men and women. There was a feeling of cool efficiency in the way that people moved briskly about, both the steady traffic of the road and the confident pace of the pedestrians on the walkways.

At one point he’d been uncomfortable coming to this part of town, but he was more or less used to it by now. Barely anyone gave him more than a half-interested glance, too absorbed in their own business to pay attention to random punks. The attitude used to piss him off when he figured they were all looking down on him, but a certain amount of experience made it pretty clear that most people just didn’t pay attention to _anyone_ ; it wasn’t really anything personal.

Hell, sometimes it made things easier for him. He couldn’t complain.

“Here.” Yata paused at the ramp leading up to their destination so that Fushimi could cross the couple of steps worth of distance between them. The building they were in front of was sandwiched between two high-rises, which made it look a bit odd, considering that it was a fairly modest height compared to some of the others in the area. The design was sleek and symmetrical, the majority of the exterior made up of thick-paned one-sided glass. There were two thin marble planters on either side of the double doors that the ramp led up to, with neatly cut plants growing in an elegant arrangement.

As usual, it was sickeningly perfect. “Let’s go.”

The inside of the building was no less orderly than the outside, the cleanly tiled floor shining in the light that poured in through the windows from all sides. There was a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling that scattered tiny refractions across the room. On the wall opposite the entrance was an elevator and a listing of the floors and offices in the building – nothing particularly unusual.

Yata pressed the ‘up’ button without bothering to look, tucking his hands into his pockets and watching the elevator door idly as he waited.

“Is this really an office building?” Fushimi asked him; when Yata glanced at him, he was looking around the room, eyes lingering on the ornate light fixture above them.

“No idea.” Yata shrugged, turning away as the elevator pinged at them. “I only ever go to one place here.”

“Hm.” Fushimi didn’t appear satisfied with that answer, but he let the matter drop without comment and followed Yata onto the elevator.

Once the doors closed, Yata hit the emergency stop button, paused for a second to make sure the lighting on the numbers changed from white to red, and then hit a few of them in the sequence that Kusanagi had painstakingly drilled into his head. The panel beneath the number pad popped open and a thin keypad slid out, which he dutifully typed his personal access code onto.

There was a click, and the lighting changed from red to green. The keypad receded.

Into the following silence, Fushimi commented blandly, “’Yatagarasu’?”

Goddamn, he was good at catching things. Yata shot him a frown. “Nickname with my coven.” The reminder had his frown shifting even further into a scowl. “Dunno how this guy figured that out, but – ”

He was cut off as the elevator whirred to life, and the ground abruptly seemed to drop from beneath them as it began its rapid descent.

Even though he’d done this countless times already, it was still jarring. Yata grit his teeth, holding steady as the disorientation passed. Sometimes it felt like that pause between entering the code and the elevator starting to move was just for the building owner’s amusement value. _Seriously wouldn’t put it past that guy…_

Fushimi clicked his tongue; when Yata glanced at him, he looked irritated. “What is this, an amusement park attraction?”

Yata couldn't help but snort in response. “You’re telling me. I have to come here almost every day for this asshole. It’s not something you get used to.”

There was no real chance for a response, even if Fushimi would have offered it; the elevator slowed and came to a halt almost as jarringly as it had started up, sounding off an obnoxious ‘ding’ as it did. The doors slid open.

The hall they revealed was similar in elegance to the lobby above, but the decor was not as plain. The ceiling was vaulted, and both it and the walls were ornately carved with delicate lines and simple patterns, soft off-white with little traces of silver and gold. The floor was slick, polished grey, and the lighting, cool and faintly tinted with blue, seemed to reflect off of it and cause a myriad of colors to echo through the room.

Yata let out a soft ‘ch’, already a little irritated just from the sight of it. _Show off._ He started out from the elevator, deliberately letting his sneakers skid on the spotless floor.

At the end of the hall was a familiar set of double doors, large and black with golden handles and an elaborate knocker with the Roman numeral “four” engraved on its surface. Yata ignored the knocker, reaching for the handle without hesitance or ceremony – the guy behind the door knew they were there already, so why bother?

Behind him, Fushimi let out a strangely resigned-sounding sigh. “The fourth, huh? I thought so.”

Yata paused with his hand on the handle, turning to frown at him. “Huh?”

“Never mind.” Fushimi shook his head. “Let’s just go in.”

For a moment, Yata squinted suspiciously at him – but hell, he wasn't going to get answers by standing there arguing with this guy. “Yeah, yeah.” He pressed down on the handle and opened the door, stepping in without waiting.

“Oh?” A deeper-toned voice greeted him with mildly. The man it belonged to sat opposite the door behind a broad wooden desk, which was surprisingly bare in contrast to the overdone ornate decor on the walls and flooring. The structure of the hall extended into this room as well, but somehow the light within felt like daylight seeping through open windows. Which was stupid, considering they were underground, but there it was. Several display stands with various items – most of which were probably rare, and way more than he could afford anyway – flanked the desk. On the surface in front of the man, a half-finished puzzle was laid out.

This was Yata’s current employer, a man he knew very little about beyond his name – Munakata – and the vague nature of his underground business. Which was... something to do with providing rare and valuable components for some of the more extensive spells Kusanagi cast on the Homra bar to keep their doings under wraps. Whatever. As long as Kusanagi vouched for him, Yata was fine with it too. And since he was getting paid well enough, the rest wasn’t too important.

The smile offered up in response to his entry held the usual annoying mix of knowing and amused. “How unusual that you would return today, Yatagarasu-kun.” Munakata rested his elbows on the desk, creating a bridge with his hands and somehow managing to avoid brushing aside the tiny puzzle pieces with his heavy, ceremonial black robes. “I seem to recall being informed that your intent was to have the day ‘off’.”

“Yeah, well, shit happened.” Yata scowled at him in response, even more irritated than usual by the formal speech. “And quit calling me that! It’s not my real name, goddamnit!”

“My apologies.” There wasn’t a trace of real apology in the statement. “I admit to being quite charmed by the fitting nature of the nickname. But that aside...” His gaze shifted away from Yata. “You appear to have gained a most interesting companion.”

“What ‘gain’?” Yata muttered, glancing back.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, cutting off any further complaint. His was looking past Yata to where Munakata sat, gaze wary. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

“Eh?” For a moment, Yata was too stunned to do more than look back and forth between them, caught completely off-guard. “Wait – what do you – ?”

Munakata leaned back in his seat, leaving his fingers interlaced in front of him. “This is merely a side venture, Fushimi-kun,” he responded, without acknowledging Yata's stuttered attempts at questioning them. “Please rest assured that I have no intention of neglecting my more pressing duties.”

Fushimi frowned at him. “And what do you call giving out a collection of our summoning circles to a civilian?”

“Yata-kun is a most competent witch – not to mention an exceptionally strong being.” Munakata's gaze flickered very briefly to Yata, and his smile widened marginally. “I had every confidence that he would not misuse such a gift.”

That earned another click of Fushimi’s tongue. “Your confidence is misplaced, then. This guy performed a summoning while drunk, and didn’t bother to include a timeframe.”

“Is that so?” Munakata leaned forward again, keen interest lighting in his gaze. “And you responded even so.” He tilted his head. “How very unlike you, Fushimi-kun.”

Fushimi caught his breath sharply; when Yata looked over at him, he caught only a brief glimpse of those blue-grey eyes widening before their owner was turning his gaze aside, scowling. “You didn’t have to say that much...”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Yata demanded – and then abruptly remembered there were more pressing questions. “And – wait – how the hell do you guys know each other? What are you even talking about, anyway?”

“Haven’t you guessed yet?” Fushimi muttered, sounding out of sorts. “This guy is my boss.”

“ _Huh?_ ” Yata gaped at him for a moment, then spun around again. “Wait, wait, wait…” He thrust a finger in front of him, pointing directly at Munakata. “You’re telling me this guy’s a fucking _demon_? Like, a demon _lord_ , even?”

“Lord of the fourth region of hell’s influence.” Fushimi's tone was drawling, almost bored. “Not that it means as much as you'd think.” He looked up again to fix Munakata with a steady gaze, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “But he does have jurisdiction over any contracts formed in my sector.”

The word ‘contracts’ somehow managed to snap him out of his shock. Yata lowered his finger, directing his own glare at Munakata, who smiled pleasantly in return. “So you’re the guy who can get us out of this.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re the fucker who got me _into_ this, so you’d better fix it!”

“A most unjust accusation, Yata-kun.” Munakata seemed unbothered by the attention. “I merely gifted you with the book – there was no coercion on my part regarding how you chose to make use of it.” He tipped his head towards his interlaced fingers, glasses catching the light in a way that made them seem to glitter. “However, if you are in need of my assistance, I can certainly provide it – in exchange for an appropriate price, of course.”

_This fucking guy..._ Yata’s hands curled into fists at his side, scowl deepening. “‘Appropriate price’, my ass, you – !”

“What price?” Fushimi cut him off, voice sharp and dripping with suspicion.

Munakata made a small noise of approval. “How practical of you to ask, Fushimi-kun.” He finally unclasped his hands, reaching down to open one of the drawers of his desk. “As it happens, I do have a task that will suitably employee both of your unique talents.” When he straightened again, the hand he extended toward them held two small stones.

They looked like ordinary stones, Yata noted, squinting suspiciously at them. Both were small and oval-shaped with smooth surfaces. One was orange and crystaline, with sharp angles and tiny specs of contrasting shades within, like ashes rising from a flame. The other was soft blue with splintering white highlights, looking as though a blizzard had been frozen and contained within.

“Sunstone and moonstone,” Munakata identified them without being asked. “In reality, two different offshoots of a mineral known as feldspar. Their potency for use in magic is almost entirely dependent on the amount and quality of sunlight or moonlight they have absorbed.” He paused very briefly, and then added, “At present, that potency rests at zero.”

“So? You want us to charge ’em?” That didn't sound difficult. Yata frowned in response. “Gotta be more to it than that...”

“Most perceptive of you, Yata-kun.” Munakata set the stones delicately on his desk in front of the half-finished puzzle. “In point of fact, an ordinary charge would not be sufficient for the purpose I intend to turn these to.”

Fushimi let out a short sigh. “Is it necessary to be so cryptic?”

“My apologies. The intended purpose need not concern you.” Munakata leaned back in his seat, this time crossing his legs and clasping his hands in front of him. “Yata-kun, your aspect is the sun – and Fushimi-kun’s, the moon. That makes the two of you ideal for this... unusual venture.” Without waiting for comments or questions, he went on. “In this instance, I need to have the moonstone charged with sunlight and the sunstone charged with moonlight.” He studied them both intently. “Further, the charges need to be exceptionally strong – and completed within a lunar cycle of one another.”

“ _Huh?_ ” Yata blurted, even as he heard Fushimi’s flat, “What,” from beside him. He stared at his employer, flabbergasted.

To charge the stones in the opposite element... _What the hell’s the point?_ Also, because of the incompatibility, it was going to be hard to get a decent charge – much less an ‘exceptionally strong’ one. And how were those charges going to last long enough to be of any goddamn use? The stones wouldn’t hold them for all that long.

In short, none of it made any damn sense at all.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Fushimi echoed his thought out loud, an edge of thinly contained impatience in his voice. He frowned suspiciously at Munakata. “What are you up to, Captain?”

Munakata returned the frown with an untroubled smile. “Have faith, Fushimi-kun – my actions will surely line up with the logical order in time, as always.” He glanced at Yata, and made a small, self-satisfied hum. “It would be wise if Yata-kun were to take charge of the moonstone and you the sunstone, for now. I can sense the presence of twelve points in the city ideal for the collection of either moonlight or sunlight – if you can endeavor to locate each one and determine its properties, I have confidence in your ability to collect a full charge in each stone before long.” His gaze lingered almost uncomfortably. “Yata-kun has an uncanny knack for determining precisely when exposure would hinder rather than help; I suggest you make use of that.”

The unexpected compliment brought an odd blend of disgruntled acknowledgement and reluctant pride; Yata stared back at him, nonplussed and not sure how to respond. “Yeah, right,” he muttered, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head awkwardly.

Instinct, again – he’d always been good at finding just the right quantity and quality of what he needed, without bothering with measurements or anything. Kusanagi had gotten him to charge things in the past, though Yata more often made use of that talent in the kitchen where he did most of his casting.

It was something that rarely failed him – except when it came to his love life. And demon summoning circles, apparently.

The reminder fired up his determination. Yata reached out and snatched the blue stone from the table, letting out a frustrated ‘ch’ as he did. “Whatever. I’ll do what it takes to get this asshole out of my goddamn life. The sooner the better!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue as well, extending his hand to pluck the orange stone with far less enthusiasm. “What a troublesome job.”

Munakata chucked. “I have every confidence in you both.”

That wasn’t even worth answering. Yata snorted, pocketing his stone and turning to head for the door. “This doesn't change the fact that I’m off today,” he said irritably, reaching for the handle. “I’m not doing any deliveries until tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Munakata's response was perfectly calm and even. “I had no intention of allowing these... unusual circumstances... to interfere with our regular business arrangement.”

Naturally he wouldn't. Yata huffed a frustrated breath, swinging the door open with force and stalking through it, leaving Fushimi to close it behind them.

“Take care,” Munakata's voice followed them, and then the door shut firmly, cutting off any remaining connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, maybe it was pretty obvious who Yata's boss was.


	4. Chapter 4

Yata was in a foul mood by the time they reached the elevator. The insignificant weight of the stone in his pocket felt like it represented the unpleasant knot of this unwanted contract and the hassle he was going to have to go through to get it undone. His patience was already at its limit; he felt about ready to kick something.

_Yeah, the train is definitely out. Fuck that noise._

Fushimi moved to stand beside him, the evidence of his matching irritation made obvious in his tense posture, scowl, and directionless glare. “How long am I supposed to put up with this?” he muttered as if to himself and reached up to dig two fingers into his temple beneath the band of his glasses, shutting his eyes. “What a pain...”

“How the hell d’you think I feel, huh?” Yata responded belligerently, slamming the stop button as the doors closed. He bent down to unzip the bottom pocket of his cargo shorts, scowling to himself. “Anyway, fuck it. You’re gonna find out sooner or later, so we're doing this the easy way.”

“The ‘easy way’?” Fushimi repeated. It was almost possible to hear the raised eyebrow in his voice without even looking at him. “Also, in case you’ve forgotten, I already know _exactly_ how you feel.”

Yata ignored that, digging out the familiar cloth pouch and opening it to grab a pinch of the powder inside. “You still wanna fly, right?” He could feel the warmth of the magic still seeped in the herbs under his fingers, fueling his confidence. “I’ll make you invisible and you can do whatever.”

Fushimi eyed the bag for a moment, expression inscrutable, and then inclined his head just slightly in acknowledgement.

Good enough. Yata reached up to sprinkle that tiny bit of powder, brushing his fingers together over Fushimi’s head to ensure that it landed properly, and then dipped back into the pouch to do the same for himself.

“I can still see you,” Fushimi remarked after he’d finished.

“You already know I’m here, dumbass!” Yata stowed the pouch away, shooting him a dirty look. “It’s not _perfect_ invisibility, like we just vanish or anything like that. People won’t notice us, that’s all.”

“Mm.”

That sounded like a dubious hum, but whatever. Yata shrugged off his hoodie, quickly securing it around his waist, and then reached back to tug his shirt over his head.

There was a stark pause from beside him – different from the neutral silence of before. He could feel Fushimi’s eyes on him as he freed his arms from the shirt, and a wave of sudden self-consciousness seemed to wash over him. “What?”

“Nothing.” The word was drawn out, low and throaty and promising. “I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist, that’s all.” When Yata turned to stare at him, momentarily confused, Fushimi lowered his eyelids, lashes veiling his gaze as his smirk widened. “Then again, we are invisible, so maybe that’s not the right word for it. Either way, if doing it in public is your thing…” He let that trail off, shutting his eyes and letting out a huff that sounded partly amused and partly smug. “I don’t know if I believe you’ll stay quiet enough, honestly – does the spell come with a ‘silence’ effect?”

Incomprehension gave way to sudden realization; Yata felt the blood rush to his face, hot and furious. “Wha – _the hell?_ I don’t wanna _do it_ in public, you weirdo! Especially not with you!” The last part was a useless lie – the warm twinge of involuntary interest at the suggestion and sultry look combination was going to give him away – but he had to maintain his dignity in some way. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“You were taking off your clothing.” Fushimi shrugged, spreading his hands without any sign of remorse. He let his eyelids slide just far enough open to fix Yata with a heated gaze. “What was I supposed to think?”

There was a certain amount of promise in that look: an unspoken answer to the desire that Yata was trying very hard to ignore. Fushimi was taunting him, he was pretty damn sure of that – but there was an element of something half-serious behind it; a kind of ‘just kidding… unless you want to’. If he was being honest, he’d been getting flashes of that vibe from the start, and it was confusing as hell. It was directly contrary to the contempt Fushimi seemed to have for him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that conflicting set of attitudes.

_He thinks I’m a waste of space but he’d be okay with us fucking? I don’t get it._

Well, either way, Yata wasn’t so desperate for sex that he’d take it from someone he wasn’t even sure he _liked_ that much, hormones be damned. Fushimi was interesting, yeah – clever and cool, mysterious in a way that was undeniably sexy – but he was also a dick and Yata had standards, damnit! Getting off wasn’t worth the lack of respect.

No matter how desperate for contact he was…

Shoving those thoughts aside, Yata scowled in response, deliberately turning to face the panel again and harshly slamming the lobby button to start the elevator moving. “You can keep those kinda thoughts to yourself, asshole,” he grumbled, tucking the shirt securely into the waistband of his shorts.

Fushimi made a soft, amused sound, almost lost in the hum of the elevator coming to life. “You still haven’t explained why you started undressing.”

_That_ at least he was gonna get some satisfaction from. “Hah!” Yata shot him a sideways smirk, feeling marginally better. “You’ll see when we get outside.”

He got a raised eyebrow in response. “Is the secrecy really necessary?”

“Nah.” Yata shrugged, turning to face the doors again as the elevator came to a halt. “But why should I waste my breath when you’re gonna see it soon enough anyway.”

“‘It’, huh?” The words came out slow and mocking. “In that case, I hope _it_ is worth the production.”

Yata shot him a scowl, moderately irritated. Fushimi was looking at him with lidded eyes, lips turned up in a lazy smirk and gaze somehow intent. It made him keenly aware of his exposed skin, and he felt a little self-conscious, uncomfortably reminded of his diminutive build. He had muscle, yeah, but despite his best efforts he was never gonna be really broad. And he was short, which didn’t help. Most of the guys who liked short, slender men liked a certain _type_ , which he definitely was not. But it wasn’t like his problems with getting laid had ever been about finding people who liked how he looked – at least, based on how often he could pull initial interest, he didn’t think he was unattractive or anything… so…

_Why’m I thinking about this shit now? Who cares what he thinks of me?_ Deepening his scowl at that defensive rush, Yata turned and deliberately stepped forward into the empty lobby, leaving Fushimi to trail after him.

Once they were outside the building, he stepped just off to the side of the staircase, not quite moving fully out onto the sidewalk. _Right. I should have enough space here._

“What are you – ?” Fushimi’s words cut off in a sharp inhale.

Yata had already begun stretching out the lesser-used muscle – for lack of a better term – at the center point between his shoulder blades. He felt the initial rush of pain as Fushimi spoke, and gritted his teeth against it as those previously hidden appendages sprouted out through the flesh on his back. It was as if they’d been released from restraint once he’d consciously attempted to extend them. Once he started, they just… came out, muscle and bone and dark feathers, flaring out a good five feet to either side as they sprung free.

He experimentally flexed them one at a time, shaking each wing a little to work out any kinks, as the throbbing in his back faded and he consciously unclenched the fists that had balled up at his sides. As usual, they felt fine – no stiffness or anything. That was normal – the wings were magic, after all; they didn’t make sense otherwise – but otherwise, they had always _felt_ just like any muscle in his body. Natural, controllable, easy.

Through the whole process, he could feel Fushimi’s eyes on him, almost burning his skin; when he turned to meet them, a challenging smirk forming on his lips, the gaze that met his was narrow and calculating. “So that’s the deal with that ‘Yatagarasu’ business.” One thin eyebrow arched. “You’re full of surprises, huh?”

“Told ya we could race.” Yata shrugged, folding his wings in just a little and reaching up to adjust his shoulder to alleviate some of the extra pressure. He deepened his smirk, gratified by the small, irritated frown that was returned. “How often do you fly, anyway? Are you even _fast?_ ”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Annoying,” he muttered, but the answering fire to Yata’s challenge was present in his eyes. He slid them shut and a short second later, his own wings emerged from the center of his back – along with the smooth curved horns and thin forked tail that were a part of Yata’s vague memory from the previous night.

The transition was so seamless, it was almost like a special effect from a movie. Yata resisted the sudden impulse to reach out and touch, gaze shifting with fascination from the tail as it lashed sharply to the appendages on Fushimi’s back – which, despite the bat-like appearance, seemed to be a lot broader and more solidly built than he remembered from that hazy first impression – and then up to the simple inward curve of the horns.  “Hey… how’d you keep those hidden? More illusions?”

“I can’t use illusions on myself, remember?” Fushimi met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “They’re probably exactly like yours – I can extend and retract them when I need to, that’s all.”

“Huh.” Yata accepted that – and then a thought occurred to him, and his eyes narrowed. “How’d you get them to go through your clothes so neatly?” When he leaned in for closer inspection, it almost looked like the wings and tail extended naturally from Fushimi’s shirt and pants. “I gotta take off my shirt if I don’t want it getting ripped up.”

“Do you not even think?” Fushimi met his scowl with an unimpressed frown. “The clothing is illusion, idiot. Or had you forgotten that already?”

He had, but the scornful response got on his nerves just the same. Yata deepened his scowl. “So what if I did? Your clothing’s not that exciting, y’know.”

Fushimi let out a small, amused huff, lips turning up in a tiny smirk. “I could change that if you really want me to.”

“I _don’t_.” Shooting him a final glare, Yata turned away with a frustrated huff. “Whatever. Just keep up – it’s not my fault if you fall behind and get lost.”

“I have to keep you company, remember?” Fushimi drawled back. “I can’t get lost.”

Yata snorted. “Can’t be that easy to get rid of you, huh?” He stepped forward without waiting for a response, stretching his wings out wide before heaving them down hard to lift himself off of the ground and gain momentum.

It wasn’t something he’d realized was _magic_ until he’d joined Homra and Kusanagi had explained that he was too heavy for any non-magical rationalization to make sense. It had always felt natural to him to be able to do this, despite the fact that he’d learned at an early age that he _couldn’t_ , at least not around other people. The first time he’d flexed that muscle and brought out his wings in front of his mother…

Yata grimaced, deliberately shoving that memory back. He didn’t like to dwell on his past – or his future, really. It was simpler to focus on the feeling of sudden weightlessness and speed as he caught the breeze and lifted, gliding forward and up lazily for a beat before pumping his wings again to rise above the buildings around them.

The air was thinner up there – cleaner, too – and as always when he did this, it felt like he was leaving his problems, past and future, behind on the ground, the rush of the wind a pleasant sting against his face and body as the city diminished and became the landscape for his air travel.

_Well… there’s still that one really clingy problem…_

He could feel Fushimi’s presence without turning his head but did so just the same. The bat-like wings flapped steadily, each powerful beat drawing him further through the air. As he rose up to Yata’s level, he shifted, catching the breeze to glide similarly for a beat. His arms were in close to his body and his legs behind him, a posture that spoke of at least minimal experience with flying.

It was the first time Yata had ever had anything similar to human company while he was in the air, which was a bit exciting. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but grin as Fushimi returned his gaze, a little surge of something like anticipation and pleasure rushing through his body when the corners of Fushimi’s mouth edged up with seeming reluctance. He pumped his wings several times more before gliding again, shifting direction subtly towards his target.

The ease of flying was something that had come with practice – a lot like his skateboarding, but later in life. There was a long period in his early life when he hadn’t brought out his wings even briefly, and once it had been safe to do it, he’d had to start from scratch learning how to fly without crashing. It was Homra who’d helped him – supported him – showered him with all kinds of advice (some of which was even helpful) as he was fumbling around with it. Homra who’d introduced him to magic and the ways he could make it a part of his natural habits and inclinations. Homra who’d taught him that he could be himself without restraint in the ways that it really mattered.

Homra who gave him a place he could always belong – a constant source of friendship and acceptance in a large, lonely, indifferent world.

That sentiment was still burning brightly within him as he angled down from the sky and came in for a practiced landing directly in front of Bar Homra – the place from which his coven took their name.

Fushimi landed beside him shortly after, folding his wings as he dropped gracefully to the ground. “So where is this, exactly?”

Yata spread his own wings again, flexing that inner muscle once more before drawing them back. The sensation always gave him the impression of a sinkhole – his external self seeming to collapse inward as the appendages were pulled in under his skin. “This is my coven’s headquarters.”

Fushimi followed his example, the wings, tail, and horns receding smoothly as he frowned critically at the old-fashioned building in front of them. Beneath the prominent sign bearing its name, Homra had a set of double doors framed by flat rosewood beams and walls lined with curtained windows on either side. Above it, the brick structure extended upward, the framed lining of its windows indicating apartments or personal rooms. The building was located close to the city’s entertainment district, where the roads were more cramped and the sidewalks made from stone rather than stark, neat concrete. It was built straight up against the establishments on either side, its prominent entrance sitting directly at the outward corner in a way that made it seem to pop out at a casual viewer. A folded sign sat at the base of the steps leading to the doors, displaying the bar’s daily specials. “What kind of coven do you belong to?”

There was a scornful note in the inquiry that had Yata’s hackles rising; he scowled back. “Not one you wanna trash talk if you know what’s good for you!” he snapped back, and then let out a short breath, reining in his temper. “Homra specializes in fae magic.”

“I see.” That considering gaze turned sideways towards him. “Well, I guess that makes sense, considering.”

_Considering._ Yata resisted the urge to rise to the bait, pulling out his shirt and sharply tugging it on over his head. “C’mon.” He started for the bar’s entrance, pausing only when he got close enough to reach for the door handle. “Right, so there’s a protection spell around this place.”

Fushimi snorted, looking unimpressed. “I’d question your leader’s competence if there wasn’t.”

It took more of an effort to clamp down an angry response to that. Settling for a glare, Yata went on. “It’ll remove any active spells you got on you – like my invisibility spell. If you got something else going on that needs to _stay_ on, better say something now.”

“I don’t cast spells,” Fushimi responded, without batting an eye.

“Yeah, right.” Yata turned back to the door. “Let’s go then.” He swung it open without waiting for a response, stepping into the warm space and feeling something within him relax as the familiar jingle on the door went off. The grin he shot forward wasn’t even remotely faked. “Yo! What’s going on, Kusanagi-san?”

The bartender – and their coven’s second-in-command – looked up from the glass he was polishing with a smile. “Afternoon, Yata.” His gaze shifted. “And who’s – ?” The question cut off; he blinked twice, seeming taken aback. “Ah.”

Before there was a chance to process that weird reaction, the blond sitting in front of the counter let out a low whistle, smiling with what looked like innocent cheer. “Now that’s bold, even for this day and age.” He was directing a curious look past Yata. “Are you on your way to a club, maybe?”

“Huh?” Yata frowned, eyebrows furrowing, and turned to look behind him. “What are you – ?”

That question died on his lips, forgotten as he took in the sight in front of him. Fushimi was now dressed as he had been the previous night: tight black pants and sleek black boots, nearly reaching as high as his knees. His upper body was bare, pale skin and lightly muscled torso on open display in the warm, rich lighting of the bar. As Yata had pieced together from his dim memories and the clothed version he’d been exposed to up until then, Fushimi was thin but beautiful, slim and elegantly built but with a certain amount of power behind that deceptive frame.

_Fucking totally my type._ The thought slipped through Yata’s consciousness before he could recover from his shock and stop it. The sharp, sudden rush of attraction caught him momentarily off-guard – it was difficult to gather his scrambled wits.

The impact of Fushimi’s attire was spoiled slightly by the sour expression on his face. “That’s a powerful dispel you have,” he muttered, and clicked his tongue. “Can I change back, or is it bad manners to wear illusionary clothing in here?”

Kusanagi’s voice was something between amused and baffled when he responded. “Well, we’ll make an exception.” The barest hint of a warning crept into his tone when he added, “But I’d stick to clothing when it comes to illusions.”

“Mm.” Fushimi shot a sideways glance at Yata, eyes veiled by his lashes again. A tiny knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Got it,” he drawled, shifting deliberately as the familiar shirt and jeans took shape on his body. “I’m a reluctant guest here anyway.”

“Reluctant, eh?” When Yata turned, Kusanagi was giving Fushimi a considering look. “That’s quite the talent you have.” His gaze shifted to Yata. “What kinda visitor did you bring here, Yata?”

“Demon,” a deeper voice answered; Yata jerked his gaze towards the side of the room in time to see his coven’s leader sit up slowly on the couch, studying Fushimi almost blandly through fierce gold eyes as he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the low coffee table in front of him. “High ranking too, huh?”

He napped there so often that Yata hadn’t quite taken note of him when he’d walked in, but he immediately brightened with that presence. Suoh Mikoto had been his hero for years – and kind of still was, even if Yata himself had settled a bit over time. “You can tell just by looking? That’s awesome, Mikoto-san!”

The blond at the counter chuckled. “King would know if anyone here would.” He stood up, making his way across the room toward them. “I guess I’ll open up the introductions, then.” The smile he offered was warm. “Hey there. I’m Totsuka Tatara.”

Fushimi’s gaze was wary as it shifted from Mikoto to Totsuka; the frown on his face deepened. “Fushimi Saruhiko.”

“Fushimi, is it?” Kusanagi held up a hand in casual acknowledgement. “Kusanagi Izumo.”

Mikoto was already lighting his cigarette, so Totsuka picked up the remaining thread without pause. “And our leader over there on the couch is Suoh Mikoto.” He held out his arms expansively. “Welcome to Homra!”

“Should that be your line?” Kusanagi commented with a certain amusement.

“It’s fine – someone had to say it, right?”

“Not so sure about that.” Kusanagi shook his head, and then turned to face Yata with an arch look. “Want to tell me why you’re bringing a high-ranking demon in here in the first place?”

“Uh… right.” Yata scratched at the back of his head, feeling sheepish. “Actually, I kinda… See, Munakata gave me this book, it had a bunch of summoning circles in it… and I mighta been kinda drunk, and, uh, well… ” He shrugged awkwardly. “Yeah, shit happened and now I got this guy stuck to me for a while.”

Kusanagi blinked at him, clearly startled. “You did a summoning on your own?”

“Yata, that’s dangerous, you know.” Even Totsuka’s expression seemed uncharacteristically somber.

The reminder had him ducking his head, sheepishness deepening into chagrin. “Right, yeah, I know…”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Considering who he is, how dangerous is it really?” he muttered.

Yata shot a startled look back at him, but Fushimi didn’t meet his gaze. _He’s defending me?_ The realization surfaced in his brain all at once, an unexpected truth rising through layers of disbelief. _But he’s the one who said I was stupid first…_ And he was right – it was Yata’s dumbass behavior that had led to their current predicament… Yata’s weakness in the face of his own loneliness that had him giving in to his impulses and making bad decisions. And it wasn’t like there’d been any hesitance to point that out before.

So this was yet another contradiction to the disdainful treatment he’d received so far. Yata furrowed his eyebrows, frowning as those blue-grey eyes turned to meet his stare impassively. Fushimi didn’t make any goddamn sense at all, really.

“I’m not doubting his ability.” When he looked up again, Kusanagi was holding out his hands in a kind of surrender, a rueful smile on his lips. “We all know what he’s capable of – ‘scuse me for talking about you like this, Yata – but summoning a high-ranking demon…”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again. “You’re making a big assumption there.”

“Oh? King was wrong?” Totsuka tilted his head, studying Fushimi with keen eyes. “Are you not a demon, or is it that you don’t rank that high?”

The expression on Fushimi’s face was somewhere between perplexed and irritated when he met Totsuka’s gaze. There was a stark second of silence and then he said, with clear reluctance, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Hm.” Totsuka’s eyes softened a little, some of that familiar knowing warmth infusing them. “So it’s the assumption that you’d be dangerous, then.”

Fushimi’s lip curled in response, expression going sour again. Yata didn’t wait for him to interject. “You got it wrong, Totsuka-san – this guy’s dangerous as hell.” He hooked a thumb in Fushimi’s direction with a bit of a scowl. “It’s only ’cause I’m a changeling that he can’t suck out all my energy and fuck off back to hell or wherever.” Reaching up to scratch awkwardly at the back of his head again, he added, “I was the one who didn’t put a time limit in there, and that’s why we’re stuck like this.”

“Hm.” Kusanagi sounded thoughtful. “No time limit, eh? Well, I guess that wouldn’t be more than just troublesome for you.” When Yata turned to face him again, he raised an eyebrow. “By the way… how’d you happen across a summoning circle for a high-ranking demon anyway?”

“Oh… yeah.” Right – that was something he’d wanted to bring up. “Got it from Munakata – a whole book of ’em, actually. Kusanagi-san, did you know that guy was – ?”

“A demon lord?” Kusanagi offered a rueful smile, reaching for one of his cigarettes. “More or less. Well… the details make for a bit of a long story…”

“It’s because King has the kind of aura that attracts power,” Totsuka chipped in, tilting his head to look over his shoulder with at Mikoto. “Right, King?”

Mikoto returned his gaze steadily for a beat, then let out a low grunt and looked away, reaching up to pull his cigarette from his lips and exhale.

“Let’s skip the story for now,” Kusanagi suggested smoothly, reaching for his lighter. “Sorry for keeping it from you, Yata – there’s a reason the three of us had to keep it quiet, even from the coven.” His eyes took on a bit of a flinty edge. “Though… seems to me there was a promise made when he propositioned you for that job…”

Fushimi made a small, amused sound, lips curling up with a slight sardonic tilt. “One thing the Captain’s always been good at is keeping to the literal terms of an agreement while still edging around it to get what he wants.” He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. “In this case, it seems to be the two of us working together.”

Yata scowled at the reminder. “Right, yeah, he said he’ll cancel the contract if we charge these stones.” He reached into his pocket to pull out the moonstone, holding it up on his palm. “In a really stupid way, too – sun for the moonstone and moon for the sunstone. What the hell sense does that make?”

Both of Kusanagi’s eyebrows went up at that. Ignoring Totsuka’s low whistle, he removed the cigarette from his mouth and spoke carefully. “That I can’t answer for you. Though… Fushimi, I’m guessing your affinity is with the moon?”

There was some soft shuffling from the stairs before he could answer that, and a soft feminine voice broke into the conversation. “The stones are a pair.” The teenaged girl it belonged to stepped into the room after it, her long white hair seeming to absorb the ambient colors of the lighting in the bar. Anna wore the usual Lolita-themed dress in red and black, striking against her pale skin, and her red eyes were calm as they met Yata’s. “Like the two of you.”

“Huh? A pair?” _What’s that s’posed to mean?_ Even knowing it was useless to protest – whatever Anna saw when her other Sight activated, it was never wrong, even if she could only express it in vague terms – Yata couldn’t help but blurt, “No – you’re wrong – we’re just like this because – ”

“A contract,” she finished simply, and offered a tiny smile. “But not just the contract. Reisi would’ve known already.” She stepped forward to where he was still holding the moonstone on his palm, and reached out to brush a finger across the surface. “Don’t worry, Misaki.” When she raised her eyes again, her expression was serious. “Things won’t always be the way they are.”

Something about the combination of that look and those words had a lump rising at the back of his throat. It was like the loneliness that had driven him the previous night came rushing back sharply to the front of his thoughts, and he swallowed, almost unable to stand the soft understanding in her eyes. After a brief but awkward silence, Yata tried for a grin to play it off. “Uh – r-right. Yeah.” He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, and reached up to rub at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Thanks, Anna! You saying that somehow cheers me up a little, y’know?”

It was always like that with Anna, though – she was a natural seer, though her powers didn’t always activate fully or give her visions she could understand, and she tended to be cryptic without meaning to. He’d known her since she was a little girl, and she’d always been overly quiet and serious, speaking very little and very simply. But somehow, he could feel the warmth behind the things she said. And it was comforting when she was around. Living at the bar and being known to every other member of the coven, she was like the beloved princess of Homra.

_Well, maybe more like a priestess in a way… sorta._

Her gaze slid past him, hands dropping to clasp in front of her. “Nice to meet you,” she said simply, “Saruhiko. My name is Kushina Anna.”

Fushimi blinked at her, clearly taken aback by her immediate familiarity. “Yeah.” After a pause, he added, almost grudgingly, “You too.”

No one could be rude to Anna. Yata didn’t bother to suppress his grin – Fushimi could probably feel his amusement anyway. “I got a favor to ask, Anna. We gotta find some spots around the city for charging these stones. Can you help?”

She tilted her head at him for a moment of silent regard, and then shook it slightly. “This is a quest. There’s less power in it if I tell you everything.”

“Huh?” Yata blinked at her. “A quest? Why?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “That makes it even more annoying,” he muttered.

Yata shot him an irritated glare. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“But,” Anna continued, as if they hadn’t spoken, “there is one thing I can say. The first step is here.”

“Here?” Kusanagi repeated, sounding intrigued. “One of those charging points is the bar, you mean?”

She nodded. “Not inside. But…” Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, meaningfully. “Homra is blessed by the sun.” When she lowered her eyes again, it was to meet Yata’s confused stare with a small smile. “Misaki. This is the place you belong to more than anywhere else. It’s the right place for your quest to start.”

“Oh. Huh.” Yata reached up to scratch the back of his head. “That’s how it works?”

Fushimi let out a sharp sigh, as if exasperated. “It’s standard for quests. Probably the last one will be mine, if that’s the way we’re doing this. Or,” he added after a beat, “at least as close to mine as we’re likely to get.”

Yata frowned at him, confused, but Totsuka had already picked up the conversational thread. “So the bar is a sun charging place, then, right?” He smiled brightly at them both, raising a hand to point up. “In that case, wouldn’t the roof be the best place to do that?”

“Obviously.” Fushimi clicked his tongue, looking back towards the bar entrance. “Does that dispel effect work on people leaving this place as well?”

“No,” Kusanagi responded, “only when you come in.”

“Good.” Fushimi turned back towards Yata. “In that case, make us invisible again and let’s fly up.”

His tone was irritating. Yata scowled back. “Don’t order me around!”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you have a better idea?”

He didn’t, but that wasn’t the point. “I said don’t give me orders, asshole – I didn’t say we _wouldn’t_ fly up.” Yata let out a sharp ‘ch’, lips twisting down in a scowl, and turned back to face the others. “Sorry. I’ll probably be busy for a while with all this crap. And I still gotta work too; I need the money.”

“Don’t worry.” Totsuka offered him a warm smile. “We’ll still be here for you. Anyway, things will turn out fine! There’s always a reward waiting at the end of a quest, right?”

Yata grinned ruefully in response. “Yeah, that’d be getting rid of this jerk.” He hooked a thumb in Fushimi’s direction.

Fushimi clicked his tongue again. “That goes double for me. Can we go?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grumbling, Yata reached down to the bottom pocket of his shorts again for the cloth packet. “I got it.”

The sooner they started, the sooner this would be over with, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually written several months ago, and planned even before that, so the fact that there are a few other winged Yata fics that came out just before is kind of a crazy coincidence! Great minds think alike, right?


	5. Chapter 5

Somehow even without removing the moonstone from his pocket and giving it a go, Yata still felt the thrumming energy of the sun beating against his body as he settled on the rooftop of the building that housed the bar. Moreso than usual.

_So this is it, huh?_ One of those spots Munakata had mentioned. As expected, since Anna had confirmed it, this really did feel different from the usual energy he got from the sun.

Experimentally, he spread out his wings again, feeling the vibrant warmth soaking into his entire body. It was as comforting as it was invigorating – he could feel the tension and stress in his muscles start to dissipate even as his energy level rose. Closing his eyes for a moment, Yata tilted his face up toward the sun and just took it in.

“Based on that reaction, it seems like this is the right place,” Fushimi commented dryly. When Yata turned to look at him, he was settling himself on the ground, cross-legged. “In any case, you’re the one who manages sun charges, so I’ll leave that to you.”

Again with that irritating tone. Yata scowled at him, but reached into his pocket for the moonstone all the same. It felt cool against his palm as he turned it up to absorb the sun’s energy, and he could get a sense of its response: sluggish and reluctant, as expected. Still, at least it was taking _something_ in. “Yeah, and what are you gonna do? Sleep?”

Fushimi turned one of his hands slightly and a thin laptop manifested within the grip of his fingers. “I’ll be doing something I wouldn’t trust you with,” he responded, opening the device and starting it up. “Researching our next move.”

“Like I wanna do that shit anyway!” Feeling disgruntled but still too curious to let it go, Yata flopped down beside Fushimi, pulling his wings back behind him and still holding the stone on the palm of his hand so it was exposed to the sun. “So? How you gonna figure that out?”

As he watched, Fushimi opened a program that displayed what looked like a 3D map, zoomed out to the point where individual buildings weren’t visible. “This is your city,” he explained dispassionately, tilting the model so that the view was completely top-down. “As up-to-date a view of it as we can get, anyway.” He shifted things again, this time turning the axis of the camera so that the city spun on the screen, and moved the mouse to the top of the map. “North is here, for reference.”

“Ah… right.” Yata wasn’t great with abstraction but he could at least read a map. And he’d done enough rituals to kinda get a sense of where this was heading. “You think the charging points are at like the north, south, east, and west? But you’d need a center point for that, right?”

“I guess you’re not quite as dumb as you come across,” Fushimi murmured, and ignored Yata’s scowl, continuing immediately. “There are two centers that I can think of: this bar, which is our starting point” – he slid the mouse pointer to a blinking spot on the screen and clicked, leaving a red dot with solid lines extending out to all four sides – “and the Captain’s office, which will be our finishing point.” The mouse moved across the screen again, settling at a different location and clicking to create another mark.

Yata blinked at him. “Munakata’s place is the finish line?”

“Almost guaranteed.” Fushimi didn’t even look up, this time spinning the mouse around the places where the solid lines hit the outskirts of the city to create rough circles. “It’s the closest point to where I live – my ‘place I belong to’, so to speak. These other points are a rough estimate; we’ll have to go to the areas and look around for the charging spots.”

“Still, this narrows it down a lot!” Once again, Yata was impressed by how quickly Fushimi had worked it out. “That’s awesome! How’d you think of all that stuff just like that, anyway?”

Fushimi looked up and met his gaze, a slight frown on his lips. There was something almost wary in his eyes. “This isn’t anything special – it’s basic logic.”

“Whatever – it’s still pretty cool to watch you just… go at it, y’know?” Yata grinned back, feeling more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he had since they’d started. There was some honesty in that cautious look that made Fushimi seem like less of a cryptic asshole and more of a closed-off grump. Maybe there was a possibility they could get along eventually. If there’d even be time for it. “With you figuring all that stuff out, we’ll probably be done in no time, huh?”

“We still have to search these areas and find the right spots,” Fushimi reminded him, turning back to his screen. “And as for the last two points…” He circled the two places on the map where the lines from Bar Homra and Munakata’s office intersected. “We might almost want to get those out of the way quickly.”

Yata frowned at the map and then at him, confused. “What’s that mean? What’s special about those places?”

“Just a hunch.” Fushimi was frowning at the map as if he were suspicious of it. “They’re not related to the directional poles but to those so-called ‘places we belong to’, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little more…” He paused, and then finished his sentence with a certain amount of distaste, “personal.”

“Huh.” Yata squinted at the map. “Not sure I get it, but…” Actually, based on where the line extending up from Homra met the line extending out from Munakata’s place was… “Shit,” he muttered out loud, a tiny shock spiking through him as recognition struck. He knew that neighborhood. “Seriously?”

“It’s true, huh?” Fushimi clicked his tongue, eyes flickering from Yata’s face back to the map again. “I guess the other one probably is around the area where _that_ happened, huh?” he mumbled, as if to himself, tapping a finger with restless energy against the side of the laptop.

Yata didn’t bother to ask for clarification, feeling a small pit of dread forming in his stomach as he thought about it. _Going back there again, huh?_ It sounded both painful and pleasant; he could already feel a taste of the mingled good and bad memories rising even at the idea. The thought of going there _now_ , with this asshole getting a sense of all the emotion it was going to bring back… “Fuck.” He reached up to scratch at the back of his head with agitation. “Forget it. Let’s do those last.”

If he had to do it, at least he’d do it when he was close to getting rid of Fushimi and not have to face him for too long afterwards.

Fushimi took in a breath, clicking his tongue again before letting it out. “Not like I have a choice, having to tag along with you everywhere,” he muttered. “Well, I’m not any more eager to go there than you are.” He glanced down towards Yata’s open palm, where the moonstone still rested. “Are you sure that thing isn’t done yet? Overcharging won’t help us any.”

“Huh? Oh.” Yata shrugged. He could still feel the sluggish sense of energy absorption from the stone in his hand, a sense of warmth drawing into the cool, smooth surface of it. “It’s still going. We gotta wait a while, probably; this guy isn’t really stoked about sunlight.”

“‘This guy’, huh?” Fushimi turned his dubious gaze upward, meeting Yata’s eyes. “It’s a rock, you know.”

Yata frowned back. “Yeah, so? Everything’s connected to life somehow, y’know – even rocks. They got a purpose just like everything else.” He raised an eyebrow. “I woulda thought a demon would be better at hearing ’em than regular people, but whatever.” He let out a soft ‘heh’, letting his mouth turn up into a smirk. “Just take my word for it then.”

Fushimi’s eyes narrowed, a tightening in his experience spelling out obvious irritation. “Not everyone can be as in tune with nature as a changeling,” he muttered back, and clicked his tongue a third time. “Demons specialize in human desires, not the feelings of rocks.”

_Human desires._ Yata took in a breath, bracing himself against the reminder. It probably didn’t just mean _those_ kinds of desires, but he couldn’t help but be aware of how close they were sitting – and the fact that he hadn’t put his shirt back on, leaving his entire torso as well as his wings exposed. At the back of his mind, there was still a vivid memory of the slender, pale-skinned chest and shoulders that he couldn’t seem to shove down. When they were looking at each other like this, close enough to notice when their gazes started to wander with less than innocent intent, it was hard to ignore the familiar shiver that started in his belly and rose up to the back of his chest.

_So fucking annoying…_

The fact that Fushimi could probably feel all of that through him had his cheeks growing hot again. Yata turned his gaze to scowl down at his hand instead, focusing on the moonstone to avoid the embarrassing reveal and shifting awkwardly at the sharp awareness of eyes on his body. “Yeah, well, that’s why I’m the one in charge of this part, so just leave it to me.”

“I was already planning to do that anyway.” The words came out in a drawl. When Yata looked up again, it was in time to catch Fushimi’s eyelids lowering lazily over his eyes as he gave him another of those heated looks. “Just make sure you focus properly.”

More taunts. Sort of. Yata shoved back the rush of excitement that gaze generated. _It's not worth it. Not_ fucking _worth it._ “Yeah, yeah.” His voice came out embarrassingly off; he cleared his throat and tried again. “I got this.”

“If you say so.” The corners of Fushimi's mouth edged up into another of those deadly little smirks.

_Not worth it,_ Yata reminded himself one more time, and made a soft ‘ch’ through his teeth as he deliberately turned his gaze away.

Silence fell between them, thick and uncomfortable. Yata shifted in his seat, closing his eyes and turning his face up towards the sun in an effort to drown out that awkwardly charged mood. The stone in his palm felt strangely heavy for some reason, and he kind of wished he could put it down.

His instincts told him that would be a bad move – and it made sense, he had to grudgingly admit. Despite the fact that he was a being with a natural affinity for moonlight, his personal aspect was the sun, and Munakata was probably right that him carrying this stone around, having contact with it and all, was going to help with this whole charging business. Anything he could do to help it charge – to help it _hold_ a charge – was a tiny step in the direction of breaking this shitty contract and getting the rude asshole it came with out of his life.

The sound of fingers rapidly typing broke him out of his thoughts. Yata glanced beside him, finding Fushimi bent over his laptop. “What’re you doing?”

The typing didn’t even slow. “Working.” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Or, at least, tying up some loose ends, since I won’t be able to do much while I’m wasting time in this realm.”

Yata blinked at him. “Wait… you actually _work_? Like, a job?”

At that, Fushimi’s fingers stilled. “What do you imagine we do all the time between contracts?” He turned to meet Yata’s gaze, raising an eyebrow. “Lounge around on a divan being fed grapes by lesser demons? Don’t be stupid.”

“How the fuck would I know? Do I look like an expert on demons?” Yata scowled back at him, a little irritated by the attitude – but still curious enough to go on. “What kinda job is it?”

Fushimi regarded him silently for a brief but telling moment, as if assessing the question. “Our realm reflects this one,” he answered finally, “in more ways than you’d think. We have the same problems with those who don’t play by the rules – lesser or greater in power. The Captain represents order in the fourth sector, but he can’t enforce that by himself. That’s part of what I do.”

“Huh.” It made sense, even if it sounded... surprisingly normal. “So you're like cops or something?”

That earned him a soft, amused huff. “You could say that. We have more freedom than the police here. I'm sure you've noticed this, but the Captain doesn't have any objections to using underhanded methods to get results.”

The reminder had his frown deepening. “Yeah, I figured that out. Sneaky bastard...” Yata let out a sharp huff of breath, releasing his annoyance with the situation. “So you guys are like a special squad or something – that’s sorta cool.” As he turned the idea over in his head, something else occurred to him. “Oh yeah, Mikoto-san said you were high ranking, so does that mean you’ve got some kinda lackeys working under you?”

One corner of Fushimi’s mouth twitched, forming the beginnings of what looked like a reluctant smile. “Something like that.”

The expression had the odd effect of making Yata smile back, feeling a bit less alienated. “You gotta be the worst person to work for, huh? D’you call them idiots all the time, too?”

Fushimi raised another eyebrow. “Only when they act like it.”

“Yeah, right.” Yata huffed out a brief laugh. “Your standard for ‘not an idiot’ is too high; just ’cause someone doesn’t immediately figure shit out like you doesn’t make ’em stupid.” He met that arch look with a gradually widening smirk. “You gotta lighten up more.”

“Coming from the expert, huh?” Fushimi returned his gaze without flinching, the upward tilt of his lips matching the lazy way his eyelids drooped. “You have an ugly temper yourself; there’s a thing called moderation, you know.”

Yata felt his mouth twitch at the corner, but it was easy to fend back the impulse to scowl. Sure, the comment was sorta irritating, but the mood had shifted. It felt less charged somehow, in a way he couldn’t explain. “At least I don’t have a shitty ass attitude about everyone and everything.”

If this lasted, hopefully it meant a temporary truce. They had to get through this somehow, and it was gonna be hell if they kept sniping at each other.

“Some of us are realistic enough to recognize when things aren’t perfect,” Fushimi drawled back.

“Yeah? Well, who needs perfect?” Yata’s answering smile had teeth in it. “Anyway, what the hell does ‘perfect’ even _mean?_ ” Unbidden, an image of Munakata’s smugly knowing smile flashed across his mind, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft ‘ch’ in reaction. “Sounds like it’d be pretty annoying.”

Fushimi made another of those amused huffs. “For once, we agree. Not that it’s exactly what I meant.”

Yata snorted at that. “So? Just say what you mean, then. Not that hard.”

“I wonder about that,” Fushimi murmured, almost as if to himself. There was a slightly sardonic edge tipping up the corner of his smile.

“Whatever – suit yourself.” This wasn’t a conversation he felt like having anyway. Fushimi was intriguing – mysterious, kind of cool, more attractive than Yata felt like admitting – but trying to piece together what he meant half the time seemed like a headache and a half. Yata deliberately changed the subject instead of pushing it. “Anyway, what’s your realm even like? D’you live in houses and all? How ’bout shops and fun stuff?”

“Like I said, it’s a reflection of yours,” Fushimi answered him lazily, still meeting Yata’s gaze with lidded eyes. “Most of it’s going to be the same. Just without any kind of food products.” His smirk widened again. “That’s what we take contracts for, after all.”

There it was again – that immediate, uncomfortable sensation of white-hot attraction flaring to life in response to the mix of threat and interest in Fushimi’s gaze. He couldn’t deny that the combination was hitting pretty much all of his points.

_Damnit._ He really did like the allure of that mystery – that edge of danger, being unable to predict…

It was frustrating just the same – especially since he knew Fushimi could feel his uncontrolled reaction. Yata scowled back, jerking his eyes away from that tempting expression. “Fucking creepy bastard…”

Fushimi’s answering hum was a mix of amused and mocking, but he didn’t respond.

Not like Yata didn’t know _exactly_ what he wasn’t saying. _“I can tell that you’re lying, you know.”_ It didn’t even need to be voiced, and it still pissed him off. He let out his breath in a sharp rush, irritation seeping through in his brain. Fushimi was too damn good at pushing his buttons – in more ways than one.

_Why the hell does he have to keep_ doing _that? It’s fucking annoying._

He was still trying to settle that agitation when stone in his hand grew warm, and Yata felt his fingers twitch – a telltale warning. “Hey, so this is gonna be done pretty soon,” he pointed out, relieved to have a reason to steer back into neutral territory again. “For now, anyway – I mean, if we overcharge it, it’ll probably crack.”

“Of course it would.” The tone of that was sardonic. Fushimi waved a hand, the laptop disappearing from in front of him, and rose gracefully. “I’m assuming based on the information we have so far that coming back here and expecting to charge it again won’t work.”

Yata shut his eyes and raised his face to the sun for a moment, catching that strong energy. There was a particular feel to it – something that felt familiar. Something uniquely ‘Homra’, in a way. _All the spots are gonna feel different, huh?_ It sorta made sense; you didn’t just cram a moonstone full of sunlight and hope it worked. There had to be a trick to it. “Yeah, probably.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “That would be too good to be true, wouldn’t it?” He spread his wings, as if stretching in preparation for the next stage. “Well, I wouldn’t have wasted my time mapping that strategy out if I really thought it’d be _that_ easy.”

Yeah, he seemed like the kind of guy who’d get pissy about wasted time. Yata pushed himself to his feet, being careful to keep the moonstone in direct sunlight while it finished its charge. “So now what?”

“Find more charging points, obviously.” Fushimi’s voice was low and flat. “We’ll probably have to search the same areas over again depending on whether it’s day or night, because the opposing charge won’t be noticeable.” He narrowed his eyes, frown deepening. “For now, let’s comb through a few to see if we can locate at least one more that’s sunlight – then we can go back there tomorrow or whenever the stone is ready again.”

“Oh.” It seemed simple when he put it like that. Yata scratched his head. “Right, yeah.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, unlike you, I’m not terribly good at ‘feeling’ moonlight.” The frown shifted almost to a scowl. “We’re probably going to have to spend more time at night making sure. What a pain…”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Yata cut in. When Fushimi turned to look at him, he shrugged. “I’m good with moonlight too. I’ll find the spots.”

The thin brows above Fushimi’s eyes furrowed. “How are you – ?” He stopped, eyes flickering briefly to the wings extending from Yata’s back. “Right. Of course you are.”

“Comes in handy sometimes.” Yata shot him a grin in response, feeling a bit smug about it. “Anyway, you got this strategy thing figured out – that’s your bit.” He straightened, making a fist with his free hand and pointing the thumb at his chest. “Leave the finding and the charging to me.”

Fushimi narrowed his eyes further, as if looking for holes in that assertion. “I’ll still have to be the one charging the sunstone,” he pointed out, after a brief pause.

“Yeah, I get it – moon aspect and all, right? Still, though.” Yata shrugged, fully confident. “I can help you out with the timing. That’s what I’m good at.”

There was another of those significant-seeming pauses, during which he could swear he saw wariness in the gaze that held his. Then Fushimi was clicking his tongue again, expression souring. “It’s not like I have a choice,” he muttered. “I don’t have that kind of so-called skill.”

“Heh.” Yata let his grin widen into a smirk. “So what you’re saying is I can do something you can’t, right?”

If anything, Fushimi’s expression grew even sourer at that. “I’m not sure why that makes you so proud of yourself.”

“What? Don’t like admitting you’re not the best at everything?” Yata let his grin show teeth. He was about to push further, but the stone in his hand suddenly grew hot, nearly burning. “Huh, seems like this one is done, anyway.” He closed his fingers around it, feeling the surface start to cool marginally as it pulled back from the breaking point. “That’s it for the first charge, I guess!”

“Only eleven more to go,” Fushimi remarked sardonically, clicking his tongue yet again. “At least it seems like a simple task once we actually _find_ the charging points.” He unfolded his wings. “That spell you cast on us should last at least until dusk, right? Let’s go south first and work our way up and around.”

“Hey, don’t act like you’re in charge here.” Yata shot him a bit of a frown, tucking the moonstone into his pocket again. “At least ask me or something, c’mon!”

“You’re ridiculous.” Fushimi let out an impatient sigh; when he spoke again, his tone was flat. “Fine. _What_ do you think about going south first and working our way up and around?”

Yata squashed the tiny bit of annoyance that came with the tone, repeating a mantra of ‘not worth it’ in his head. “Yeah, yeah.” He spread his own wings. “Fine – let’s go.”


	6. Chapter 6

They found another sun charging spot in the south, after an annoying amount of time spent flying from building to building and a just-in-case reapplication of Yata’s invisibility spell. Generally it lasted all day, but the sun was setting by that point and sometimes twilight and dawn messed things up. It was only a pinch for each of them, and he still had a good supply stowed away in a glass jar in his kitchen, so it was better not to take chances.

More urgent than that was the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. The remains of the hangover had long-since passed, and it was getting hard to focus on anything outside of the pit of emptiness in his belly. The day had shifted to twilight anyway, which made chasing sunlight harder – and it was gonna be a while before there was enough moonlight to be worth chasing. So overall, there wasn’t much else to do besides return to his apartment so he could eat.

Besides that, he damn well needed to. It was probably gonna be a long night.

“This fucking _sucks!_ ” Yata groused, kicking the door shut behind him after letting both of them inside. The apartment was still as he’d left it: everything shoved out of the way with the remains of his summoning circle on the floor, reminding him that he still had _that_ to deal with too. “How many hours of the day do we gotta spend on this crap? It takes forever to find anything!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “If it wasn’t an annoying task, I doubt the Captain would’ve bothered to force it on us.” His expression was an odd blend of resignation and disgust. “He’s the type who’ll give you something troublesome to deal with just to see what you’ll do with it.”

“Yeah, sounds like him.” Yata toed out of his shoes and aggressively pulled his shirt on, letting out a soft ‘ch’ to vent his irritation, before stepping in toward the kitchen. “Fucking sadist.”

“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” Fushimi muttered, sounding just as put out as Yata felt.

Somehow, the fact that they were equally miserable actually made him feel a bit better. Yata paused for a second with his hand on the fridge door. “So you don’t eat, right?” Without waiting for Fushimi to answer – they’d talked about it only a few hours ago so he _knew_ the answer – he went ahead with, “Want anything else?”

Fushimi had picked up one of the chairs that had been moved aside the night before, shuffling it back to the table that was crammed off to the side. “Coffee,” he responded, sitting down and materializing his laptop again, “which you’re out of. So, nothing.”

Yata shot him a scowl. _Sorry I asked._ “Yeah, whose fault is that, huh?” He turned back to his fridge, yanking it open with maybe a bit more force than necessary and busying himself with studying the contents. There were leftovers from the night before, but considering the purpose behind that meal, he wasn’t sure about bringing them out right then. “Hey, if you’re not busy, wanna move that table back away from the wall? It should go in front of the kitchen.”

The now-familiar click of Fushimi’s tongue answered him. “I’m not your maid.”

“You’re living here rent-free!” Abandoning the fridge for the moment, Yata stalked across the room and grabbed the edge of the table. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

Fushimi was quick enough to pluck his laptop from the table as it was dragged out from under him. He raised an eyebrow as Yata shuffled the furniture to get it back into place. “That wasn’t exactly my idea. And it’s not my fault your apartment is a mess.” The corners of his lips edged up slightly in a tiny smirk. “You should be more hospitable to your guests, Misaki.”

That froze him in the act of straightening to head back to the fridge. “What the hell did you call me?”

He got another raised eyebrow for his trouble. “Your name?”

“My name is _Yata_.” He glared in response, feeling that pit of annoyance in his stomach start to swell again. Coming to terms with his first name had been… a process. He was fine with it now, more or less – he could introduce himself without embarrassment, at least – but no one _called_ him that. Except his mom. And Anna.

He didn’t feel like making another exception for this guy, that was for sure.

“Yata _Misaki_ ,” Fushimi clarified in a low drawl. That smirk was edging onto his face again. “Right?”

“We’re not on a first name basis here, asshole!” Yata snarled back at him, clenching his hand into a fist against the table without thinking about it. “Nobody fucking calls me that!”

“Your seer called you that, back at the bar,” Fushimi pointed out, unmoved. He tipped his head forward, studying Yata through his lashes again. “What difference does it make? I’m already inside your head; that’s about as close as you can get. Or” – his smirk widened marginally – “is there something in particular that bothers you about that name?”

That struck a sore spot – one that hadn’t been prodded at for quite a while. At least not since he’d started trying to consciously tune out the shitty voice in his head telling him that the combination of his girly-sounding name and bedroom preferences somehow _said_ something about him. It didn’t seem like that was what Fushimi was getting at – more like he was just picking up on Yata’s anger and deliberately fueling it – but Yata glowered back anyway, making an effort to shove that old baggage to the back of his thoughts. “None of your goddamn business!” He pushed away from the table, letting out a sharp ‘ch’ from the side of his mouth. “Just don’t call me that – got it?”

“Whatever you say,” Fushimi responded blandly. He rose from his seat without hurrying, shifting the chair toward the table again before reseating himself and settling his laptop in front of him. “If we’re lucky, it won’t matter for much longer anyway.”

Yata snorted in response, moderately appeased. “Don’t have to tell me.” He turned back to the fridge, swinging it open again. “It’s only been a day and I already can’t wait to get rid of you.” Another survey of the contents reminded him that last night’s leftovers were basically it unless he felt like cooking or ordering takeout. Neither one sounded appealing. But still… “How long d’you think this shit is gonna take, anyway?”

“At our current rate?” The sound of rapid typing accompanied Fushimi’s voice. “A week at the very least. Probably longer.” He clicked his tongue. “There’s always some complication that comes up…”

In other words, it was use it or lose it with the leftovers – a week or more in the fridge, and he’d probably be throwing them out. Yata scowled to himself. _Whatever, not like he didn’t already smell the caraway. Who gives a shit what he thinks, anyway?_ He pulled the covered plate out and closed the door sharply before he could rethink it, pulling off the wrap before stuffing it into the microwave.

The distinct smell started to waft out after only a few seconds of heating, and Yata shifted on his feet, tossing a self-conscious glance in Fushimi’s direction. He seemed entirely focused on his work.

_Right, good._ He didn’t need any commentary on his choice of spices.

That ended up being wishful thinking, though – when he retrieved his warmed food and moved to grab the other chair to sit at the table, Fushimi glanced up, his eyes lidded and the beginning edge of a smirk on his lips. “Caraway and cinnamon, huh? Are you hoping for something?”

Yata scowled back, feeling his cheeks head. _Shoulda known._ “They’re leftovers, okay?” He dropped into his seat with an agitated huff. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hmm?” Fushimi drew the hum out in a way that could’ve been either mocking or suggestive – possibly a mix of both with the way he was eyeing Yata across the table. “If you’re looking for prosperity and sex, I could think of better requests for a demon than _company_.” His gaze was penetrating. “What exactly was your goal last night, anyway?”

The memory of that frustration, longing, and aching loneliness was still sharp enough to cut through Yata’s thoughts; he frowned against the rush, turning his eyes deliberately to his food. “None of your business.”

He could still feel Fushimi’s stare piercing into him for a long moment after he started in on his meal, but no response came. Just as the silence was starting to become unbearable, Fushimi clicked his tongue and the sound of his typing started up again.

They ate and worked without acknowledging each other again after that. Yata had the chance to wolf down his food and wash his dishes before the last traces of sunlight started to fade into evening and the familiar sense of the moon started to rise up at the back of his thoughts. It was a welcome distraction from the awkward atmosphere between the two of them.

“Let’s go,” he said shortly, heading over to step into his shoes without waiting for a response.

He heard Fushimi heave a sigh behind him. “You’re so impatient,” he mumbled, sounding irritable. The sound of the chair sliding against the floor indicated that he was getting up to follow all the same.

Well, not like he had a choice if Yata was leaving. “You wanna get this over with, right? C’mon.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, stepping closer. “I heard you the first time.”

“Yeah, well, hurry up then.”

It was noticeably cooler out than it had been earlier, though the feeling wasn’t too unpleasant – summer solstice was less than a month away, so the weather was pretty warm overall. The sky was lightly clouded, and Yata could feel the humidity in the air even as he rose above the city. The wind had died down completely, and he had to beat his wings more frequently to keep up momentum and height.

Somehow, it wasn’t as annoying as it had been earlier. The stronger presence of the moon had the weirdly conflicting effect of calming his nerves and exciting the rest of his senses. Yata shut his eyes briefly against the exhilaration that shuddered through his body. It wasn’t as strong as it had been – the full moon had passed already – but he could get intoxicated if he let himself.

_Not now._ He opened his eyes, forcing himself back on track as they landed on the roof of the next building. So far, there had been three duds, but this…

_Ah… it’s here, huh?_ There was definitely a stronger source illuminating him at this place. Yata breathed in deeply, instinctively letting his head and body adjust to the rush. It felt good, but not in the same way that the sunlight had. That was more of a personal feeling: soothing and grounding. This was almost a seductive call, like a lover’s touch.

Not exactly what he wanted on his mind when he turned to look back at his companion – and it didn’t help to have a visual to go with it, either. Moonlight complemented Fushimi’s coloring, accentuating his pale skin and setting attractive highlights in his dark hair. His grey-blue eyes seemed to glimmer behind his glasses, and the lines of his face and body were stark and smooth. The span of his wings, the gleam on his horns, the whiplike length of his tail… It all added to the dark mystery that wrapped itself around him effortlessly in this lighting.

_Fuck._ Yata sucked in a sharp breath and turned his head, swallowing an embarrassing little rush of attraction. It was worse now with the moon above him and his senses heightened; he couldn’t deny the sly tug of arousal the sight generated. _Goddamnit, why the hell is he like that?_

Fushimi let out another of those low hums, clearly amused. Even the sound of it was like a siren’s call in that moment, the timbre and pitch of his voice feeding into the mood deliciously. “It seems like this is the right place,” he drawled.

At least the irritation had a grounding effect. Yata clenched his teeth, shoving aside that set of urges. _Too damn close to the full moon._ At least it had passed; things would probably get easier as it waned. “Yeah, great, so get it going already.”

“You really are way too impatient.” Even without looking, it was possible to hear the smirk in Fushimi’s tone. “I have the stone out – that’s all I need to do, right?” He let out a soft, amused hum. “I seem to remember something about ‘leave the finding and charging to me’…”

At that, Yata did turn, with a scowl already formed on his face. “Yeah, thanks, asshole – I remember what I said, okay?” After a brief glare at Fushimi’s frustratingly sexy face, he turned his gaze to the stone. “Let me get a sense of this guy, and I can handle it.” Trying to focus on something a little safer, he reached out to tap a fingertip against the smooth surface.

The reluctant feel of the sunstone’s absorption became more prominent as he did. Yata let his touch linger for just a second longer, getting the sensation settled in his head so that he could tell without reaching out when the breaking point got closer. That sluggish, almost half-assed charging felt similar to the moonstone from before.

_This guy’s gonna be just as difficult, huh?_

Fushimi’s hand twitched under his, as if on some impulse, and their fingers brushed.

The sensation of warm skin under his was electric. Yata glanced up, startled, and caught sight of Fushimi’s eyes widening just a little, his expression charmingly unguarded. For a very brief moment, something seemed to tighten in Yata’s chest. The sight of that pale, beautiful face illuminated by moonlight and looking refreshingly honest for a change stirred a surge of sudden, intense longing to life within him. It was difficult to even breathe properly.

It didn’t last more than a second or two, and then Fushimi’s gaze was flickering off to the side, head turning and mouth twisting down as he clicked his tongue softly. “That’s enough, right?” he mumbled, deliberately shifting his hand away. “Don’t block the moonlight.”

“Huh? I…” Yata blinked, momentarily dazed by the sudden shift in the mood, and then shook his head in an attempt to clear the fog of moonlight-induced stupor. “I wasn’t!” He felt his cheeks start to burn with embarrassment as clarity struck and turned away himself, letting out an agitated ‘ch’ and reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “I know what I’m doing, all right? Get off my back.”

“I don’t remember getting on your back,” Fushimi drawled, low and throaty with that blend of suggestive and superior. “Although… somehow I doubt you’d be saying that if I did.”

Yata’s fingers clenched behind his neck, strands of hair catching and pulling in his grip. “Fuck off,” he muttered, frustrated with himself over the twinge of arousal that came with the imagined scenario. Once again, he was uncomfortably aware of being half-naked under that intent gaze, and he could feel the earlier warmth spreading down his neck onto his chest.

They’d only known each other for a day, and somehow Fushimi had the ability to read him like a book, prodding at all of his sensitive spots with uncanny accuracy to evoke the right reactions. It was as exciting as it was irritating, a power that ignited his interest like nothing else and pissed him off at the same time over that helpless reaction.

He seriously had to get rid of this guy, and fast. This was messing with him way too much already.

“If you say so.” Fushimi’s tone was airy and mocking, lined with a certainty that made Yata want to punch him. Mercifully, he didn’t follow up on the subject. “Judging by the first time we did this and assuming that sunstone and moonstone behave similarly, charging shouldn’t take much more than an hour. That should leave us with plenty of time to locate more charging points.”

Yata shot him an irritated look. “Yeah, fine, except that I need to _sleep_ at some point. I gotta work tomorrow, remember?”

Fushimi frowned back at him. “If you’re assuming that I _don’t_ sleep, you’re wrong.” He reached up to adjust his glasses. “I just think it’s more important to get this over with while we can. Anyway, you probably don’t even have a place for me to sleep properly, so what’s the point of making a fuss over it?”

“I have a futon at least, goddamnit! Just because I’m not rich doesn’t mean I can’t have guests!” Yata felt his eyebrow twitch, annoyance building within him. “Anyway, did you seriously just ask what the point of getting enough sleep is? What the hell is wrong with you?” He squinted at Fushimi. “Are you like one of those office workers that tries to run on coffee and energy bars?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, offering an unimpressed frown in return. “Says the idiot who got drunk and performed a summoning before passing out on the floor and waking up hung-over. Do you really think you have any high ground to judge someone else’s lifestyle from?”

“I don’t do that every night! Anyway, that’s not the point!” Yata braced his hands on his hips, setting his stance firmly. “I’m not pulling any all-nighters for this shit. No fucking way.” Before there was any chance for a response, he ploughed ahead with, “And I’m not skipping work to do this all day, either. I got bills to pay. My life doesn’t stop just ’cause this shit is happening.”

There was a stark moment of aggrieved silence, and then Fushimi clicked his tongue again. “Do what you want – not like I have a say here.” His stare was flat with irritation. “Are we at least agreed that we’re not going to waste time idling when we _could_ be getting this out of the way? Basic needs and bills aside, there’s no point in screwing around.”

“No shit. Why the hell would I want to screw around with you?” Realizing the double meaning behind his words a fraction of a second too late, Yata immediately blustered on. “Right! But! Anyway, we’ll look around more tonight for a while! And tomorrow when I finish up work. Got it?”

“No excuses,” Fushimi muttered. His eyes were sharp.

“Yeah, yeah.” That went without saying as far as Yata was concerned. He met that cool-eyed gaze with full seriousness, feeling a little bit like he was making another contract. Of a different kind. “No excuses.”


	7. Chapter 7

The sound of a downpour clattering outside of Yata’s bedroom window greeted him as he drifted awake. It was muggy inside, but not uncomfortably so, and he couldn't immediately identify where the vague sense of apprehension came from as he groggily turned his head to blink at the view from his bed. He could see a corner of the sky, grey and cloudy.

No sun.

_Shit._ All at once, the reality of his situation struck him and he sat up, staring at the overcast view through the window with dismay.

No sun meant no sun charging. Which meant...

Yata shot a wary look at his bedroom door. He usually didn't shut it – the airflow in the apartment already wasn't great – but he had that unwelcome visitor to think about now. _Is he up yet?_ Somehow, it was hard to think of Fushimi actually sleeping, but he had said that he did it so there was a possibility he might not be awake.

Honestly, that sounded better than having to deal with him right away. Yata let out a huff of breath, rubbed a hand across his face, and aimed another dismayed look at his window. _Of all the fucking times..._ Of course it would rain. Why wouldn't this situation just keep turning into more of a pain in the ass?

_Now what?_

They'd have to wait for the weather to clear up; there was kinda no getting around that. And considering it was almost June, there was no telling when that would be. It could be cloudy and raining for weeks.

The fact of that – it being the rainy season – hadn't factored into his plans at all until now.

“Goddamnit,” Yata muttered under his breath, thoroughly put out. He scowled at the window for another second, then let out a sharp sigh and turned to reach under his pillow for the moonstone.

That was something they’d agreed on last night – the stones should be on them all the time so there was more chance of them holding the charge they’d already gained. Underneath their pillow was the best way to handle that while they were sleeping. And it seemed like it had worked so far – the sense of the sun’s energy was still there beneath the smooth surface as he closed his fingers around it, not seeming to have lost anything from the previous day.

Hopefully Fushimi had stuck to it as well.

_Why wouldn’t he? He wants to get this shit over with as much as I do._ Yata slid his legs over the side of the mattress, reaching into his drawers for a clean pair of shorts and a shirt and dressing himself quickly. He was definitely awake now, and there was no point avoiding whatever was waiting for him on the other side of the door. After depositing the stone and his pouch of invisibility powder in the pockets, he scowled at the handle for a brief second, and then let out another fierce huff of breath and reached out to open it.

Fushimi was already sitting at the table with his laptop, fully dressed; the futon Yata had set up for him when they'd come back around midnight was shoved haphazardly to the side with the bedding still rumpled. “Finally,” he muttered when their eyes met. “I thought you were going to sleep all morning.” The frown on his face was openly displeased. “You really should restock your coffee.”

“Yeah, good morning to you too.” Yata frowned right back. _I don't need this shit first thing in the morning, seriously._ He glanced at the clock above the stove. “Dunno what the hell you're so impatient about – it's only nine. Anyway, why don't you just illusion up some coffee if you want it that bad?”

“It won’t make a difference. I can fool my sense of taste, but it doesn't make me more alert.” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “It’s annoying what inconsistencies you run into dealing with perception. Coffee is one of those sticking points when it comes to consumables.”

Yata furrowed his eyebrows, making his way across the room to the kitchen. “What, so you guys have no food but you still have like coffee shops and stuff?”

“Something like that.”

There wasn't much he could say to that – demonic daily life made no sense, seriously – so he just snorted, reaching out to pull open the fridge door and studying the contents critically. It was reasonably well-stocked – his specialty was kitchen magic, after all – but the question was _what_ to make.

Starting the day with lots of protein was a good idea, but also... Yata tossed a baleful look out the window. _Could use some luck, too._

Well, he had stuff for that.

Much like the previous night, Fushimi didn’t speak to him at all while he was cooking, but did glance up when Yata came to the table and set his bowl of apple-cinnamon rice pudding down. “Do you use cinnamon in everything you make?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Anything that increased his chances of success in life was good. Besides, things had started looking up for him in general after he’d started practicing in the kitchen and using that as his main focal point. Yata pulled out his chair unceremoniously and dropped into it, shooting a flat stare across the table. “Anyway, what do you care?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, turning his eyes back down to his laptop with a frown. “Never mind.”

“Yeah, thought so.” Yata snorted, turning back to his meal.

They left right away after he finished eating – showers had been a ‘last night before bed’ thing – and with only minimal grumbling about ‘impatience’. Munakata didn’t exactly have business hours, but the sooner Yata got there, the more jobs he could get done and the more money he made. They could worry about the whole business with the stones when it wasn’t raining.

_Hopefully it doesn’t go all week or something._ He wasn’t feeling optimistic about it.

Speaking of which… Yata grabbed his umbrella from the entranceway on the way out, remembering only as he did that there was just one. He hesitated just outside the door where the awning kept the downpour from hitting them, shooting Fushimi a dubious glance. “You gonna be okay in this or – ?”

“It’s fine.” Fushimi brought up his hand as he stepped through the door, materializing a second umbrella without even changing expression.

Yata frowned, skeptical. “If that thing’s an illusion, how’s it gonna keep you dry?”

Fushimi returned his stare blandly. “How well do you understand physics?”

Yata huffed a brief laugh, turning to lock his door. “That some kinda trick question?”

“Right. Forget I asked.” Fushimi’s voice was dry. “In any case, you can think of it as a question of power. Lower ranking demons wouldn't be able to take it to that level.”

“Okay, sure.” He could understand that much; the more power you had, the more you could do. Yata turned, opening his umbrella and moving toward the stairway. “Let's go.”

As they stepped out into the rain, Fushimi asked, “How long do you think it'll be before this clears up?”

Yata scowled at the reminder, narrowing his eyes at the soaked sidewalk in front of them. “It's the rainy season, so who knows. A day? A week? Could be more, even.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “That's annoying,” he muttered.

“You're telling me.” This sucked. The more it rained, the longer he had to deal with this bullshit. There wasn't a damn thing he could do about it either, which pissed him off even more.

_What a pain in the ass._

It was still warm out despite the rain, and the air was muggy. With the last few days being pretty clear, Yata had almost forgotten how unpleasant the weather usually was around this time of the year. He was starting to regret his decision to go home and sleep instead of hunting down more charging points like Fushimi had suggested – not that he’d admit it.

_Whatever. We found one, and it’s not like we could just charge these things up in one night anyway._ Still, it was frustrating not to be able to act now.

“You do plan to stop for coffee, right?” Fushimi muttered, sounding out of sorts. When Yata glanced at him, he was frowning, as if his surroundings had somehow offended him. “Today is already going to be enough of a pain as it is.”

“Yeah, yeah – I got it.” He could use one himself, honestly. “The place I get the beans from is closed on Mondays, though – we’ll just get something cheap at the station and grab the good shit tomorrow.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I guess it’ll have to do.”

Yata shot him a disgruntled look. “Hey, don’t complain – I’m the one who has to pay for this shit, remember. So – ”

“No need,” Fushimi cut him off, bringing up his free hand almost lazily. A card manifested between his fingers. “Don’t assume I’ll freeload off of you. I can cover my own expenses.”

Yata furrowed his brows. That looked like an ordinary credit card, but… “How do you pay with that thing? Does it actually connect to a real account?” It occurred to him as he said it that Fushimi could’ve duplicated any random card, and he couldn’t help starting, a little surge of alarm rushing through him. “Wait – don’t tell me you – ”

“It’s the Captain’s work account.” Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “What were you expecting? That I’d just commit fraud casually? We do have ways to get along in your world without resorting to that kind of thing, you know.”

That was a relief, at least – and a double relief that he wouldn’t have to pay for the coffee. Yata let out his breath in a huff. “So it’s just my place you’re freeloading off of, huh?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again. “Not by choice.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He brushed that off. “You’re still gonna mooch my coffee, though.”

“Are you still hung up on that?” Fushimi clicked his tongue a third time. “I’ll pay for it if you’re that bothered.”

“I _am_ that bothered, okay?” Yata reached out to jab him in the arm lightly, frowning stubbornly when Fushimi glared at him. “You don’t just take people’s shit without asking! Anyway, it’s not like you can pay for it.” He let out an irritated ‘ch’, reaching up to scratch his head with agitation. “I got a full jar of dream herb still, but with both of us drinking coffee every day, I’ll have to pay for it twice as often. And I didn’t even do a harvest this week or anything…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Fushimi wouldn’t know about his system, after all – most people would assume you just pay for coffee beans. “It’s kinda… The café that has those beans is a coven’s headquarters. They don’t usually sell ’em, because they’re – y’know – spelled. For enhanced effect. It’s not kitchen magic, the way I do it, but… hard to explain.”  Yata shrugged. “You’ll see. Anyway, I trade ’em for stuff I harvest.”

Both of Fushimi’s eyebrows went up. “Harvest…?” He tilted his head quizzically. “If your ‘dream herb’ is the one I’m thinking of, it shouldn’t grow in this climate.”

“Heh.” Yata couldn’t help but grin at that, pride softening his earlier irritation. “I’ll show you. Just wait.”

The irritated way that Fushimi’s frown deepened as he turned his head was hugely satisfying.

As promised, they got coffee to go from a stand at the train station, and continued on to Munakata’s building with their hands full of umbrellas and to-go cups. The rain started to ease off just a bit as they came off the train in the business district, but the sky was still as grey and cloudy as ever, showing no signs of letting up or allowing even a trace of the sun through.

“What unfortunate weather,” Munakata greeted them when they arrived at his office. He took Yata’s scowl with his customary oblique smile. “However, I see that you were able to begin the charging process already.” He bridged his hands in front of himself again. “As expected of such an exceptional pair.”

Yata snorted derisively. “Yeah, right, ‘pair’.” He fixed his employer with a flat glare. “You got stuff for me today, right? Let’s hear it.”

“Indeed.” As usual, Munakata seemed amused by his demanding tone. “Without delay, then…” He reached beneath his desk and brought forward a single sheet of paper, sliding it across the desk so that Yata could easily retrieve it. There was a list of five locations and contacts, along with the items he was going to be either retrieving or delivering.

_Five, huh?_ He could get that done in a day, assuming they weren’t such huge-ass items that he had to keep coming back to get them or drop them off. Most of the shit seemed to be small, rare spell components. _Good enough._

“The first four are deliveries,” Munakata pointed out, needlessly – the list was pretty clear, after all, but he really seemed to love the sound of his own voice. “The last is a retrieval. All payments have been cleared, so there is no need to resort to any form of ‘extreme’ measure.”

Like Yata hadn’t done it in the past – and wouldn’t happily do it again if needed. Sometimes cracking some stubborn skulls was the best stress-relief from this boring ass delivery job that he got. Still, it meant today was gonna be easy, at least. “Got it.”

“Splendid.” Munakata leaned back in his seat. “Do keep that thought in mind during your retrieval as well.”

“Huh?” Yata checked the list again, scanning the names and places he’d breezed over before in favor of the items. As his eyes hit the last line, he felt his lip curl instinctively, a sharp twinge of annoyance stabbing through him. _You gotta be fucking kidding me…_

Fushimi had been observing the exchange silently, but he took that moment of aggrieved silence to interject. “What’s the problem with the retrieval?”

Yata scowled, avoiding his gaze in favor of glaring at Munakata. “Nothing,” he gritted out, balling up the paper and stuffing it savagely into his pocket. “You got the delivery items ready or what?”

Munakata’s answering smile was beatific. “Certainly.” He raised his voice only slightly. “Awashima-kun, if you would be so kind.”

“Yes, sir.” The door opened behind them even as the cool feminine voice answered, and a familiar blonde woman stepped inside, straight-backed and clad in a midnight blue pantsuit. She was carrying a rucksack.

Yata half turned towards her. He was more or less used to Awashima Seri by now, but she’d made him uncomfortable during his first few weeks on the job and he wasn’t totally at ease around her. It probably couldn’t be helped, though. She was as strict as she was efficient, and she hadn’t been inclined to be patient with his initial nervousness.

As usual, she handed him the bag without ceremony or even a comment, but her flat, no-nonsense gaze spoke volumes.

_C’mon, I’ve been doing this shit for months now._ He frowned back at her, feeling pugnacious. _I’m not gonna break anything._

 Rather than retreating directly to the door after bowing to Munakata, she turned her gaze on Fushimi instead. Astonishingly, her cool expression softened just enough to allow a small, rare smile. “Fushimi.”

“Lieutenant,” he acknowledged her, without batting an eye.

She nodded in response, as if this was exactly what she’d expected, and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping back so that they could pass.

“I believe that covers the particulars,” Munakata noted. “I shall be awaiting your report, Yata-kun.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shouldering the bag, Yata headed for the door. “Later.”

There was still that small but odd hint of warmth in Awashima’s expression as they moved to pass her; when she raised her head, her gaze was directed at Fushimi. “Good work,” she murmured.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Since when did I offer praise lightly?” There was an edge of fondness in her crisp tone that Yata had never heard before. It was weird. “Perhaps I should have said ‘good luck’ instead?”

“I’ll need it.” Fushimi snorted, and her answering hum of amusement was the last thing they heard before the door closed behind them.

_Huh. So people do get along with him sometimes._ Yata shot a sidelong glance at Fushimi, taking in the now-familiar frowning profile and hunched shoulders. He didn’t really get what it was about this guy that could bring out a friendly side to Awashima, but it had happened.

Was there something he was missing, or what?

“So?” Fushimi cut into his pondering as they entered the elevator. “How far do we have to go?”

Yata reached back into his pocket for the list, letting Fushimi push the button to send them back up. There were a couple of out-of-the-way places on the list, but he wasn’t gonna have to fly, at least – in this weather, it would’ve sucked. “Not too far. We can just take the train.”

The name and location for the retrieval at the end seemed to pop out at him, reminding him of their existence now that he was aware of them. Yata let out a soft ‘ch’ under his breath, irritated all over again. _Why that guy? Why today? This sucks…_

The elevator kicked on, interrupting that thought, and he looked up to find Fushimi fixing him with a narrow look as they sped upwards. “What’s the problem with that retrieval?”

There was no point in hiding it; he’d find out soon enough anyway. Yata scowled, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. “That coven’s got bad blood with Homra.” The elevator came to its abrupt halt, jarring his teeth unpleasantly. “They hate me. I hate them. Going there is a pain in the ass.” The doors chimed and slid open, and he moved on quickly. “That’s it.”

“Ah.” Fushimi’s voice had taken on that drawl again. “So you do have enemies. How… unsurprising.”

Yata tossed a sharp grin over his shoulder, unbothered by the jab. “If you’re not making enemies, you’re not living right.”

Fushimi blinked at him, clearly not expecting that response, and then let out a soft huff that was almost a laugh. He looked ruefully amused. “What kind of philosophy is that?”

“S’true.” Somehow that expression was oddly satisfying – Yata felt a tiny rush of gratification and wasn’t sure why. “I bet you got enemies too, right?”

“Of course I do,” Fushimi responded, flat and even. The tone almost seemed mild when it came with that tiny upward quirk of his lips. “I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if I worried about pissing off random low-lifes.”

That sentiment resonated – Yata paused at the door leading out of the building, processing that unusual feeling of comradery as he met Fushimi’s gaze. After so much adversary between them, it was strange to have a moment like this where they just somehow… clicked.

He couldn’t be totally sure if Fushimi felt it too, but somehow it felt like something had shifted between them – just a bit.

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Huh? Nothing.” Yata blinked rapidly in instinctive response, as if shaking off a stupor. He turned back to the door, allowing himself a small grin, bemused but satisfied by the exchange. “S’all good.”


	8. Chapter 8

He ended up saving the retrieval for last – not only because it was the worst job, but because he didn’t wanna go in with anything of value on him that he’d end up having to replace or pay for. Usually if some punk stole his shit, he could get it back easy enough, but he’d spent enough time around Jungle to know not to underestimate them.

_Fucking Jungle. Fucking Hisui Nagare. Fucking… Munakata. That bastard._

The rain had petered off into a little drizzle by the time they walked out of the train station and onto the street that would lead them through the residential area. The sidewalk was narrow in that part of the city, the houses thin and squished in together like they were huddling for warmth. Foot traffic was sparse at that time of day, and the roads were quiet but for a few cars here and there – most of them zipping by above the speed limit. As they turned to head down a different block, there was an impressive piece of graffiti art splayed across the wall that lined a nearby schoolyard – a snake biting a lion’s tail, and ‘bite back’ in large bold spray-painted letters above it. Inside the schoolyard, a group of kids were playing, and the sound of laughter and shouting made for lively background noise.

It was a familiar sort of place – not exactly the neighborhood he’d grown up in, but close. Would’ve been comfortable if not for… those guys.

“There’s a coven headquarters in a place like this?” Fushimi commented blandly.

Yata shot him a narrow look. “What’s weird about that?”

Fushimi shrugged. He seemed to be sizing up the area, in a lazy sort of way. “There’s not a lot of space.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” He was getting defensive, even though Fushimi hadn’t exactly said anything derisive. Yata reached up to rub at the back of his neck, expelling a sharp sigh. “Doesn’t take a lot of space for rituals – you saw my apartment, right?”

“Mm.” Fushimi’s tone was thoughtful. “True.”

It didn’t seem like he was gonna say more, but something small and restless stirred in Yata’s belly. He couldn’t resist the urge to add, “Y’know, I grew up in a place like this.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected in response, but Fushimi turned to regard him with something almost like interest. “Nearby?”

“Huh?” Yata blinked at him, caught off guard. “Uh… no.” He recovered his equilibrium quickly, offering a small awkward shrug in response. “Other side of the city.” Not wanting to leave it hanging like that, he added, “This place just kinda gives off a familiar vibe, y’know? Guess it’s normal, though – I mean, it’s like my home when I was little, so yeah. It’s nice.”

“Is that right?” There was something inscrutable in Fushimi’s expression. He turned his head to regard his surroundings again; when he spoke, it was almost like he was mumbling to himself. “I guess most people would feel that way, huh?”

Something about the way he said it felt off, but Yata shrugged that aside. “Right!”

They had to walk two more blocks and then down another street before reaching the intersection that was sort of a crossroads between the residential area and the more industrial area. There was a construction zone that made the distinction that much more stark – large wooden structures and protective plastic lined the solid brick buildings that dwarfed the houses opposite them. It had been like that for as long as Yata had been coming here, as if the work was in constant limbo. He’d never seen any actual construction workers, either.

Sometimes he wondered if it was just a glamor spell of some sort, but it had never given off any ‘fake’ vibe, and he was usually pretty good about picking that shit out.

_Whatever._ Not like it mattered.

“I feel like I should’ve waited with my question from before,” Fushimi drawled, dispelling his umbrella illusion as he followed Yata through the opening in the plastic to the cramped temporary walkway. “It’s _really_ hard to imagine a coven operating in a place like this. Is it even safe?”

Yata snorted in response, pulling around the rucksack to stow his own wet umbrella. “Probably not. These guys like it that way, I think.”

The sharp sound of Fushimi’s tongue clicking met his ears in response. “I haven’t even met them and already they seem annoying.”

“Yeah,” Yata offered another huff of agreement, “just wait.”

About halfway down the construction walkway, there was another opening in the plastic that lined the wooden path. It wasn’t too conspicuous, but behind it there was a boarded-up door. Yata reached through the plastic and rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Yatagarasu,” he identified himself, raising his voice to be sure it went through clearly.

There was a long moment of silence, and then loud, rapid footsteps approached from the other side.

The door, which looked like it should’ve opened outward, slid to the side instead. A platinum-haired teenager glowered out from between the boards. “What are _you_ doing here?”

_It fucking_ would _be him._ Yata resisted the urge to swear, frowning back. At least if it had been Yukari, all they’d get were some vague suggestions and a smug smirk. “Picking up for Munakata.”

“Nagare never said there was a pickup.” The kid sneered back at him. Gojo Sukuna had the biggest attitude problem Yata had ever had the displeasure of coming across. And, unfortunately, a hell of a lot of power to back it up. But right now he looked like the bratty teen he was, ripped jeans and ill-fitting T-shirt completing the picture. “And who’s that guy? Some new shitty member in your shitty coven?”

Yata bit back the immediate, angry response. _Not fucking worth it._ “Yeah, I’ll tell Anna you said so,” he gritted out, and had the satisfaction of watching Gojo’s face stiffen and grow red. Somehow or another, those two were classmates – and she was the only member of Homra he didn’t bad-mouth. “He’s not a member, just a…” The word ‘friend’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to chew it back in time. “He’s with me.”

“Duh.” Gojo rolled his eyes, fixing Fushimi with a belligerent look. “You – what’s your name?”

Fushimi looked down his nose at Gojo as if studying an insect, then shifted his gaze to Yata slowly. “Do I have to answer this brat?”

When it wasn’t directed at him, somehow that attitude was awesome. Yata couldn’t help his answering grin. “Nah.” He turned back to Gojo, who looked about ready to commit murder. “Hisui’s gotta be waiting for us – sure you wanna leave him hanging?”

Gojo glowered at them, shifting from one to the other for a second or two, and then snapped, “Stay there!” and slid the door shut so fast it banged against the handle.

Yata heaved a sigh, reaching back to ease the tension at the back of his neck. “Pain in the ass,” he muttered.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I’d happily strangle this stupid brat.”

That at least got a huff of laughter from Yata. “Least you gave ’im hell – that was pretty cool, by the way.” He tipped his head a bit, feeling hesitant for no real reason as he offered up a genuine smile.

Fushimi blinked at him, raising a hand to adjust his glasses as if to mask his reaction. “You’re easily impressed,” he muttered back, gaze flickering away from Yata as his eyelashes lowered.

It was an oddly endearing reaction. Yata wasn’t sure why but his cheeks warmed all the same. “Yeah, well… ‘enemy of my enemy’, right?” He shrugged and let it drop there, feeling weirdly awkward. “If we’re lucky, Hisui’ll just give him the quartz to pass on to us and we can get the hell outta here without going in.” It wasn’t likely, but still possible if Hisui was busy with something.

“Mm,” Fushimi agreed, and clicked his tongue again. “Are the rest of them as bad as this?”

Yata didn’t even hesitate. “Yup.”

Fushimi’s frown deepened. “Great.”

There was no chance to respond to that, because the same loud footsteps from before approached and the door was flung open once again. Gojo glared at them both, reaching out to rap his knuckles against the wooden planks barring the entrance. They swung open as if they were all attached to a solid door. “Nagare said come in,” he grumbled, stepping back to give them space, “so hurry it up.”

Of course things couldn’t be that easy. Yata let out a soft ‘ch’ under his breath, moving to step forward.

“Is there a protection ward on this place?” Fushimi asked abruptly, halting him in his tracks.

_Oh yeah… right._

“’Course there is,” Gojo answered impatiently, shifting irritably from foot to foot as he waited. His gaze narrowed. “Why, you got something to hide?”

Fushimi ignored him, gaze fixed on Yata instead. “Did you want to tell him first, or should I be a surprise?”

The prospect was too good to pass up. Yata grinned back, showing teeth. “Hey, everyone loves surprises, right? Let’s go.”

The corners of Fushimi’s mouth turned up; he let out an amused huff, shutting his eyes briefly. “Just remember this was your idea,” he murmured.

“What are you two blabbing about?” Gojo demanded suspiciously, as Yata moved through the doorway into the dark, empty room beyond. He took a few extra steps to leave space and turned just in time to catch Gojo’s jaw drop as Fushimi followed him, wings flaring out and horns sprouting from his head. “Wha… what… the _hell?_ ”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Fushimi drawled. His illusionary clothing shifted back into place, covering the expanse of pale-skinned chest that had automatically revealed itself when he’d stepped in.

A tiny thread of disappointment wormed its way into his thoughts; Yata shelved it firmly. _Not now._

Gojo rounded on him, eyes blazing. “You brought a demon _here?_ Are you crazy? Wanna start a war or something?”

Yata shrugged. “Hey, Munakata probably said something to your leader before we got here.” He spread his hands, widening his smirk. “Not my fault Hisui doesn’t pass that shit on to his doorman.”

Another furious flush crept onto Gojo’s cheeks. “Nagare’s gonna _kill_ you,” he growled, and then managed a smirk, eyebrows lowered almost dangerously. “I hope he lets _me_ do it.” Turning sharply, he headed for the back of the room. “C’mon!”

Yata waited while he opened up the trap door in the back corner, dim light from the opening glowing through. “Little shithead,” he muttered under his breath as Gojo climbed down the ladder and out of sight.

“That’s an understatement,” Fushimi murmured in response, and clicked his tongue. “After you, I guess.”

“Yeah, sure.” Might as well get this over with.

The ladder didn’t go down all that far. At the bottom was a short, narrow hallway leading to the main room in this dank, poorly lit basement. It had been designed – for some dumb reason – to look like someone’s bachelor pad. The tiled walls had a greenish tint, the carpet under the sofa and TV was threadbare, and there were boxes piled atop the cabinets and fridge. Gojo was lurking near the back, slouched against a wall near where a tall man in a priest’s robe was diligently hanging laundry from a wire. He paused every so often to lift a can from the counter behind him and take a long swig.

_How’d you expect clothes to dry with no airflow in here, huh?_ It had to be some kinda spell they used, but the point of it wasn’t clear at all. Yata really didn’t get these guys.

Hisui Nagare himself sat on the couch, a tablet in his hands. He was dressed in an oddly formal way, black pants and suit jacket over a white shirt, but his hair was unkempt. When Yata stepped forward through the open door, he looked up from his work with a smile. “Ah,” he said, “Yatagarasu. Good of you to come.”

Yata clenched his teeth, but didn’t bother reminding him not to use the nickname. It wouldn’t make a difference. This guy could be frustratingly oblivious of other people’s preferences and feelings. “Can we just make this quick?”

“Of course. Iwa-san,” Hisui addressed the tall man, “would you be able to find the quartz that Munakata requested?”

“Sure thing.” Giving the shirt he’d hung one more tug, the man – Iwafune Tenkei – stepped back. He offered Yata a shrug and a smile and then turned to examine the drawers behind him. “Now where the heck did I put that…?”

_Coulda got it ready when you heard I was here, assholes…_

“I appreciate it,” Hisui responded smoothly, and let his gaze slide with obvious interest to where Fushimi had stepped up beside Yata. “What an extraordinary friend you’ve brought. Won’t you introduce us, Yatagarasu?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue before Yata could respond. “I’m fine with being a stranger.”

“Is that so?” Hisui blinked, tilting his head a bit as if trying to get a read on the situation. “I’m afraid I’m not quite familiar with the salient points of demon etiquette.  My apologies if the request was impudent.” He set the tablet aside and leaned forward in his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees and creating a bridge with his hands, on which he rested his chin. It was an oddly hunched posture for him. “Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. I have a particular interest, you see.” He smiled again. “I’m very curious about the extent to which demonic illusion challenges reality.”

That must have been a pre-arranged signal, because faster than Yata could blink, Iwafune spun from the counter, pointed a gun at Yata’s head with uncanny accuracy and fired.

The instinctive rush of alarm and panic at being shot at struck him in the same instant that the shot itself rang out; Yata flinched back automatically…

… And barely managed to catch sight of a projectile from beside him catching the bullet mid-flight and knocking it aside.

The shock hadn’t quite faded but his body was already tensing for action; Yata whipped his head up just as Fushimi spun up two more throwing knives and slung them with practiced ferocity at Hisui, Iwafune, and Gojo, shifting as he did to place his body between Yata and them.

The reality of that deliberate movement stunned him even more than the sudden attack. Yata felt his breath catch in his throat, so sharply he nearly choked on it, and couldn’t help but stare at Fushimi’s back, tense and poised with his wings at full span. _What is he…?_

As expected, the knives bounced back harmlessly from their marks, falling to the floor in tandem. Hisui sat up straight in his seat, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he regarded Fushimi. “It seems as though your demonic rank is quite high, to create an illusion of that caliber.” His eyes gleamed with interest. “As expected of Munakata’s protégé. I’m impressed.”

The tension seemed to ease off of Fushimi all at once; he straightened, letting out a sigh. “A trick, huh?”

“Hey, asshole!” Yata shook aside his own shock, focusing on glaring at first Iwafune and then Hisui. “The hell was that about, huh? Don’t just fucking shoot at people!” He balled his hands into fists. “You wanna start a fight?”

Gojo stepped away from the wall, placing himself between them and Hisui. “Try it, _Shitty_ garasu. I’ll take on you and your pet demon both!”

Yata balled his hands into fists. “What was that!?”

“There’s no need for that, Sukuna.” Hisui settled his hands in his lap with polite diffidence. His eyes were still on Fushimi. “I expect you’ve noticed by now, but this room is warded against physical harm to any living being within its walls. My apologies for not mentioning it. It was necessary.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, but didn’t answer. When Yata tilted his head to catch a glimpse of his face, he noticed that those grey-blue eyes were narrowed, fixed sharply on Hisui.

_What the hell?_ Yata turned a glare in that direction as well. “Was that s’posed to be some kinda test or what?”

Iwafune chuckled. “I guess you could call it that.” He’d stowed his gun and was reclining against the counter, beer in hand. In his free hand, he hefted the chunk of rose quartz that Munakata had requested. “You wanna hand this off to our guests, Sukuna?”

“Huh? Why should I?” Gojo shot him a petulant look. “Do it yourself!”

Iwafune sighed. “Kids today. No respect for their elders.” He pushed himself away from the counter, crossing the room and even stepping around Fushimi with an apologetic grin to hand the quartz to Yata. “Thanks for your hard work.”

“The results were most enlightening,” Hisui added, pleasantly.

Yata scowled at him and then at Iwafune’s back as he retreated across the room, before letting out an agitated huff and depositing the quartz into his empty rucksack. _Finally!_ “Shoot at me again and I’ll fuck this place up.” With a final glare for the inhabitants of the room, he turned to leave. “C’mon, we’re going.”

“Hah! I’d like to see you try, _Shitty_ garasu!” Gojo taunted.

“That is the lamest insult I’ve ever heard,” Fushimi muttered, just loud enough for his voice to carry as they moved through the door.

Yata snorted. “Right?” He tossed a smirk over his shoulder at Gojo, who glowered back at him. “Like a grade-schooler trying to act tough.”

“What? You got a problem?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, pausing at the base of the ladder for Yata to go on ahead of him. “What I have is a headache. What a noisy brat.”

“You’re telling me.” Yata let out a soft ‘ch’, climbing deftly toward the opening and hoisting himself out so that Fushimi could pass. “He doesn’t get any better the longer you know him.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

Yata made a point of leaving Jungle’s front door wide open when they were through. Gojo was going to come up and close it pretty quick, but it still felt satisfying in a petty way to leave it like that. “Pain in the ass,” he muttered, pushing through the plastic of the construction zone with more force than was really necessary. He pulled his umbrella out of the rucksack, holding it ready to open when they reached the edge of the walkway.

Fushimi was right on his heels. “You weren’t kidding about that.” He clicked his tongue. “I hope you don’t go there often.”

“Not that often.” Thankfully. The interest in Hisui’s eyes kinda bugged him, though. “Hopefully he doesn’t start asking for a bunch of shit just ’cause you’re with me…”

“I doubt it.” Fushimi clicked his tongue again, lips curling. There was a frustrated edge to his voice. “He already got exactly what he wanted.”

“Huh? You mean that shit about your powers and all?” Yata frowned. “I didn’t really get what he was after. That was some kinda test, right? But why’s he so interested in you?”

“It’s not me.” Fushimi shook his head. His frown deepened. “I’m pretty sure that was aimed at the Captain. Nothing to do with me – unless…” He furrowed his brow, and then shook his head again. “No. That can’t be it.”

Yata stared at him, baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Obviously I don’t know the details, but it seems like the Captain has some kind of feud going on with that Hisui guy.” Fushimi shrugged. “Or maybe it’s a one-sided thing on Hisui’s part, but I doubt it. He outmaneuvered me too easily for the Captain to take him lightly.” He clicked his tongue again. “This wasn’t so much a test for me as scoping out what kind of force the Captain has behind him.”

“Seriously?” Yata blinked, surprised, and then narrowed his eyes. Kusanagi would probably wanna know if that wasn’t something he’d already picked up on. “You think he’s planning an attack?”

“Who knows,” Fushimi responded, slipping back into that drawling tone. “Could be just a battle of wits. I wouldn’t put it past the Captain.” He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. “Either way, it’s not like I’ll actually have anything to do with it. I can’t manifest on this plane without a contract.”

That was news to Yata. “Huh. Really?”

“Yes, really.” Fushimi’s voice was flat. “Only the elite ranks can – and there’s not all that many of them.”

“Oh.” Speaking of contracts, though… Yata shot him a sideways glance, the question he’d been holding back on asking surfacing immediately now that they were outside. “Hey… about earlier…” It felt awkward to ask, especially when Fushimi’s gaze shifted to him, but he had to know. “That bullet was coming for me, not you. Why’d you – ?”

“Of course it was,” Fushimi interrupted him, and clicked his tongue, turning to face forward again. He’d retracted his wings, tail, and horns again, and with his hunched posture and sour expression, he looked completely human. “I wouldn’t have to do anything if they’d shot at _me_. Guns are no use against demons.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Yata insisted, his eyes still on Fushimi’s face as he did. “Why the hell’d you save me? You didn’t know about the ward, so you thought it’d kill me, right?” He narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t that be good for you? No more contract.”

There was a brief second of hesitation – not much of one, but with all of his attention focused on this, Yata definitely felt it. Fushimi dipped his head forward slightly, his frown seeming to deepen again. “That was… instinct. I reacted to your emotions.”

“My emotions?” Right, he had kinda panicked there, hadn’t he? Somehow, that answer was dissatisfying, though… Yata frowned. “So because I got freaked out, you moved without thinking?”

“Something like that.” Fushimi clicked his tongue yet again, looking disgruntled. “Seriously… again…”

“Huh? ‘Again’?”

“Never mind.” Fushimi picked up his pace, materializing an umbrella as he reached the end of the walkway and pushed through the plastic. “Like I said, it was just instinct. That’s all.”

_That’s all?_ Something was still nagging at him – some fact or memory that contradicted that last bit – but Yata couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He hurried after Fushimi, passing through the plastic and staring at his back as he brought up his own umbrella.

_His back._ Right – that was it. The image of Fushimi’s tense back as he placed himself in front of Yata. Even just thinking about it sent chills through him – a kind of gratifying rush that he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t really needed it, but… _He protected me. Even after knocking that bullet aside._

Somehow, that thought… gave him kind of a nice feeling.

Fushimi was a few paces ahead of him; Yata jogged to catch up. “Liar,” he said confidently, leaning forward to peer at Fushimi’s face again. “You moved in front of me before throwing knives at those guys – which was awesome, by the way! You’re pretty good!” He smirked when the compliment earned him a glance. “But seriously, you’re gonna call that instinct?”

The expression on Fushimi’s face was nonplussed; this time the hesitation was much more noticeable. He clicked his tongue, turning away again. “I told you, I wasn’t thinking,” he muttered, almost resentfully. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Heh!” That reluctant attitude felt like a confirmation somehow. _He’s not as uncaring as he acts, huh?_ The thought made him feel like a little of the distance between them had been crossed; Fushimi had saved him, even if it wasn’t really necessary, and Yata couldn’t help but warm up to him a bit. “You should be more honest, y’know. Trust me a little. S’not like I bite or anything.”

“You should learn – maybe then you’ll be quiet.” It seemed to occur to Fushimi what he’d just said, and some of the irritation faded from his expression. He let his eyes grow lidded, offering a twin to Yata’s smirk. “Actually, I could teach you.” When he spoke again, his voice was pitched lower and he drew his words out deliberately. “Unlike you, I _do_ bite.”

The unexpected innuendo brought warmth rushing to Yata’s face; he sputtered for a moment, thrown off track. _That’s kinda hot,_ his traitorous brain supplied – a thought he clamped down on immediately, pushing it to the far back of his mind. “Wait – that’s not what I – ”

“Hm?” Fushimi drew the hum out mockingly. “What did you mean, Misaki?”

“I – wait, hold up a second!” Yata scowled, glaring through the flush he could still feel on his face. “I never said you could call me by my first name!”

“Can’t I?” Fushimi’s gaze was smug. “I thought you said I _saved_ you. Doesn’t that put us on a first-name basis?” Drawing each syllable out with relish, he added, “ _Misaki_.”

“Ugh.” Yata glared at him, thoroughly disgruntled. “I take it back. Nothing about you is awesome.”

“Weren’t you the one talking about _honesty_ just now? Hm, Misaki?”

“That’s totally different! Anyway, stop calling me that! We’re not that close, asshole!”

“Really? Is that the kind of gratitude you show to your _savior?_ ”

“Seriously, _shut up!_ ”

Even as they bickered on the way back to the train station, Yata still couldn’t shake the memory of Fushimi’s body deliberately moving between him and the perceived danger – or the shiver it sent through his own when he considered what it meant. Something had changed between them for sure this time, although he didn’t really know how much difference it’d make. He couldn’t tell where it would lead in the end either, but…

As surprising as it was, it turned out Fushimi Saruhiko was a guy he could trust with his life.


	9. Chapter 9

The sky hadn’t cleared by the time they returned to Munakata’s office, but the rain at least tapered off to a drizzle by the time they came out again, allowing for another flight to the Homra bar so that Yata could pass along the information about Hisui – which Kusanagi didn’t seem particularly surprised _or_ bothered about.

That was kinda what he’d expected – Kusanagi had ways of getting information that Yata would never have been able to figure out – but loyalty had prompted him to speak up anyway. Just in case.

Three of his friends – Kamamoto, Bandou, and Akagi – all happened to be there this time, and Yata stayed just long enough to introduce Fushimi and give a grudging explanation of his current situation.

An explanation that Fushimi kept _interrupting_ with embarrassing, unnecessary details, which his friends all seemed to find hilarious. Fucking traitors, all of them.

“You didn’t have to say all that,” he grumbled when they pushed through the door into his place after flying in.

“If I didn’t, it wouldn’t get said,” Fushimi responded without any sign of remorse, lowering his eyelids and offering a little smirk when Yata turned to glare at him.

Fuck, that expression was still dangerous as hell. Yata couldn’t help but feel nervous at being the focus of it, acutely aware of his exposed skin as he cleared his throat to respond. “Yeah, well, I’m fine with that.”

“You’re the one who values honesty,” Fushimi responded breezily, lowered his lids even further to allow his lashes to veil his eyes – and Yata had to look away, hastily tugging his shirt out from where he’d tucked it into his shorts and pulling it on.

It seriously felt like he needed a barrier against that look sometimes.

The evening was… uneventful. Mostly. He made himself dinner, they took turns having showers again, and it seemed like Fushimi was just going to bury himself in his laptop. So Yata cleaned the remains of the ill-fated summoning from his floor – finally – and pulled out his portable gaming system to waste a few hours before going to bed.

He wasn’t fifteen minutes into it – swearing up a storm as usual – before Fushimi was suddenly leaning over the back of his chair and pointing out every single mistake. And he didn’t put up with more than five minutes of _that_ before thrusting the console in his face and telling him to ‘put up or shut up’.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, Fushimi was surprisingly good at video games.

Yata could only watch him blow through all the trouble spots with apparent ease for a minute or two before a mix of chagrin and frustration had him ripping the console back out of Fushimi’s hands and furiously turning his attention to mastering the stupid thing already.

“And you said _I_ can’t handle losing,” Fushimi drawled, raising an eyebrow at him.

They spent the rest of the evening like that – Yata playing and Fushimi taking breaks to watch over his shoulder periodically, mumbling suggestions almost as if making observations to himself. Which was annoying, but he ended up usually being right, so after a few rebellious but frustrating deaths accompanied by impatient sighs from behind him, Yata started following the advice rather than stubbornly doing the opposite.

The suggestions became more frequent after that. Almost like an annoying companion telling him what he already knew he needed to do.

“Get the chest. To the right. The _right_.”

“I saw it, just… this guy’s in the way! Wait, wait… There!”

“You should equip that right away – it’s better than what you’ve got on.”

“I _know_! I’m doing it now, okay?”

“Watch out for that guy coming back.”

“I _got it_ , just let me do this!”

“You always miss things when I leave you alone.”

“Fuck off! I do not!”

“… You just passed a chest.”

“Damnit! I was just… I was gonna get it later!”

“Right. ‘Later’. After you die without reaching the next save point, you mean.”

“Ugh! Shut up already!”

As frustrating as it was, the evening passed by quickly, and Yata was so keyed up by the end of it that he nearly forgot the unfortunate mess they were in and the problems caused by the bad weather. _Maybe it’ll clear up by tomorrow,_ was the last thought that went through his head before he passed out into blissful unconsciousness.

By morning, it had started to rain in earnest again.

“It’s almost like the Captain planned this,” Fushimi mumbled resentfully as they stepped out of Yata’s apartment. “Just to see how long it takes for one or both of us to snap.”

Yata snorted in response, locking his door. “Wouldn’t put it past him.” He turned to open his umbrella.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Your coffee place is open today, right?” He materialized his own umbrella, already open, as they headed for the stairs. “Yesterday's was barely tolerable.”

“You're like one of those coffee snobs, huh?” Yata shook his head, amused. “But you liked the shit I had, right?” He didn't wait for an answer - by now he was more or less clued in that a lack of complaints was the same as a compliment as far as Fushimi was concerned. “That's their stuff. And it's better when they make it, too - you'll see.”

“Hm.” That was a slightly dubious hum, but Fushimi didn't offer a deprecating comment with it.

Good enough.

The coffee shop required a train going in the opposite direction of Munakata's place, but it was generally worth the extra time spent. In addition to the coffee – and the desserts, which were just as awesome – sometimes they had a delivery for him to take back to work with him, which saved him a little time here and there.

Munakata also had an uncanny knack for picking out when Yata was gonna visit the place and arranging for him to take a delivery with him for the owner. It was pretty convenient, even if the all-knowing bullshit pissed him off a little. He could live with it at least.

_Whatever. A job’s a job._

When they walked out of the station, it was into the center of a shopping district: all colorful billboards and banners, large store names, and fancy awnings for restaurants and small buildings. Most of them had a modern look, unlike Homra's old-fashioned decor, but there was a lot more liveliness to it than Munakata's sleek, symmetrical office building. The sidewalks were crowded with people despite the rain, umbrellas blending into a mishmash of shades and shapes and shopping bags bumping against their legs. Some of the stores had colored lighting to illuminate their signs and specials through the grey haze of the downpour.

As usual, it was a flashy place.

“This looks like a pain,” Fushimi muttered beside him.

Somehow it wasn't a surprise that he'd hate crowded areas. “Yeah, yeah.” Yata re-opened his umbrella, raising it up over his head before they reached the edge of the station’s awning. “S'not that bad once you get used to it. Anyway, it's not far - just don't lose me.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, following suit with the illusionary umbrella he’d kept with him on the train. “I literally can't lose you, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Right. He wasn't totally sure how that contract kept them tethered, honestly. Good question for later, maybe. “Then there's no problem, right? C'mon.”

The café was only a block and a half from the station, sandwiched between an art supplies shop and a pet store. The building it was part of was actually the outside perimeter of a mall, so it continued up past the small awning that read ‘Hakumaitou’ in cheerful, bold printing. There was a small decal in the pane of glass on the door: two paw prints, one from a cat and one from a dog. Otherwise, the exterior picture windows just offered a view of the tables and chairs inside, all of which were small and round and clearly intended for just two or three people to sit at. There were some booths toward the back that allowed for larger groups, but the obvious intent of the place was a spot to relax with one or two people you were close with.

“Why would you name a café ‘Hakumaitou’?” Fushimi muttered, seemingly to himself. “What does white rice have to do with coffee?”

“No idea.” Yata paused to fold his umbrella again and stow it in the backpack he’d bought along. “I asked once but the answer didn't really make sense. Something about friends and food? I think it's like an inside joke.” He reached out to push the door open and then hesitated, frowning. “I don't _think_ there's any protection spells on this place. If so it'd probably just be warding off evil and those with ill intent and all. Their coven headquarters is in the basement, so that'd be the place with all the wards. I think.”

“You ‘think’, huh?” Fushimi sighed. “Well, if you're wrong we’ll be giving whoever’s in there an eyeful, and you can do the explaining.”

Yata shot him a disgruntled look. “I’m gonna go _ask_ them, jerk. Wait here.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Just remember not to go far if you don't want me following you.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Sort of. Whatever. Yata pushed open the door, setting off the cheery jingle that would alert the staff to a customer’s arrival. He brought up a hand automatically to greet the dark-haired man standing behind the counter. “Yo, Yatogami!”

He didn’t get an immediate response. Looking closer, the man – Yatogami Kuroh – was very carefully decorating the top of what looked like a chocolate cake. He set aside the icing wand after a moment, wiping the back of his arm across his forehead, and looked up. “Yata Misaki. What brings you here?”

Yata grimaced. “What’s with the full name thing, seriously?” He didn’t wait for a response, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he approached the counter. “I need more coffee. But first off…” He glanced around at the few patrons sitting in some of the tables, and lowered his voice furtively. “You guys don’t have any kinda dispels set up around this place, do you?”

Yatogami folded his arms. “This is a place of business. The wards are for protection, health, and harmony. Those who wish to pass unnoticed are welcome to keep their disguises. Why do you – ?”

The door jingled, drawing both of their attention, and Fushimi stepped inside.

Yata’s skin prickled up, first with shock and then with outrage. “What are you doing? I thought I told you to wait outside!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, frowning in response as he made his way across the room toward the counter. “I thought I told you not to go too far.”

“ _This_ is too far?” At max, he’d only put a few feet between them. “You gotta be kidding me!”

“Don’t blame me for this stupid contract’s requirements.” Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who set it up without any kind of thought put into the limitations. Magic does what it will when you set it loose.”

“A wise observation,” Yatogami cut in before Yata could snap back. He glanced between the two of them with a severe expression. “However, I’ll have to ask you to take this outside if you’re going to continue. I don’t know what the situation is between the two of you, but you’re disrupting the mood for our customers.”

It was true – a quick glance around revealed that the few patrons in the café were watching them with a certain amount of confusion. Yata felt his face grow hot. “Right, sorry,” he muttered, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, frowning, but didn’t respond.

“Anyway,” Yata hurried on, trying to brush aside his embarrassment, “like I said, we’re just here for coffee.”

Yatogami regarded him evenly. “Buying or trading?”

Yata grinned back, recovering his equilibrium. “Both.” He reached down into his lower shorts pocket for the packet he’d prepared before leaving his apartment. “I got more dream herb to trade. We’re each gonna get something while we’re here, too.”

“I see.” Yatogami reached out to take the packet from him. “Very well. I’ll let Shiro know you’re – ”

“Did I hear someone mention dream herb?” The swinging door at the back behind the counter was pushed open by a silver-haired man with a youthful face: Isana Yashiro, the owner of the café and leader of their small coven. He smiled broadly, stepping into the room. “Oh, Yata! Nice to see you again. If you’re here to trade, you have good timing – we’re just about out. I was thinking of contacting Munakata, actually.”

“The hell? Don't call him for this stuff!” Yata braced a hand on the counter, leaning forward to frown at Isana. “You got my number, right? Just text me and I'll hook you up. My shit's way better than his, c'mon!”

Yatogami let out what sounded like a long-suffering sigh. “This conversation is beginning to sound unsavory.” He fixed Yata with another of those level gazes. “Should you be talking about your employer in that way?”

Yata snorted derisively in response. “He already knows what I think of him.”

“He probably finds it funny, actually,” Fushimi added dryly.

Isana had joined Yatogami at the counter by that point. He reached out his hand for the packet Yata was holding, and brought it up to peer at and then sniff. “The quality is great, as always.” He smiled across the counter. “You want the usual in return?”

Yata grinned back. “You bet!”

Isana leaned back from the counter, tilting his head towards the door. “Neko!” he called out. “If you're awake, can you bring a bag of Blue Mountain beans to the front?”

“Shiro!” Yatogami shot him an annoyed look. “Don’t yell in front of the customers like that. It’s unseemly!”

“Oh, right.” Isana looked sheepish when he turned back toward them, bending his head a little as if he were the employee rather than the other way around. “Sorry, Kuroh.”

Yatogami folded his arms, looking only mildly appeased, and turned back to face Yata again. “Now then, what can I get for you to drink?”

_Their dynamic is so weird._ “Uh… yeah, just a regular latte.”

“Very well.” That severe gaze shifted past him. “And you?”

There wasn’t a chance for Fushimi to answer, because the back room door flung open and a young woman with silvery hair bounced into the room, proudly brandishing a small sack of coffee beans. “Shiro! I got the Blue Mountain!”

“Ah. Thank you, Neko.” Isana stepped over to the woman and patted her head affectionately, which she leaned into exactly like a cat would. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nope! I was awake already.” She happily trailed after him as he made his way back to the counter. “The dream I had last night was so great! I’ll tell you about it if you want!”

“Of course! But later, okay?” He took the bag from her, placing it on the counter before turning to smile back. “Kuroh probably wants to hear it, too – right, Kuroh?” He didn’t wait for any confirmation. “But we need to finish with the customers first.”

Yatogami shook his head, but didn’t comment. The edge of a fond but rueful smile had crept onto his stern face.

Neko glanced at the counter. “Oh, it’s just Yata.” Despite the flippant words, her voice was cheerful. “Morning!”

It felt awkward responding to all that enthusiasm somehow. Neko tended to catch him off guard still, even though he was sorta used to her by now. “R-right. Morning.”

“Is she always like this?” Fushimi commented blandly.

Neko immediately glared at him, hackles seeming to raise with instant dislike. “What’s with this… this bad-aura gloomy glasses guy?”

“Oh, right!” In all the excitement, he’d forgotten to do any introductions. Yata grinned sheepishly. “This is Fushimi.” He shot a smirk over his shoulder. “But y’know, I kinda like ‘bad-aura gloomy glasses guy’… Anyway, these guys are Yatogami, Isana, and Neko.” He shrugged. “Sorry ’bout that.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Isn’t it pointless to do introductions at this point?”

“Courtesy should always be offered when possible,” Yatogami responded strictly, and nodded. “My name is Yatogami Kuroh.”

“Ah. That’s true, isn’t it?” Isana smiled brightly. “Isana Yashiro.”

Neko narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, but when Isana gave her a gentle nudge, supplied a somewhat subdued, “I’m Neko.”

Fushimi raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a real name.”

“It is! Neko is my name!” She glowered at him. “Anyway, you don’t belong here – you’re not human _or_ a familiar!”

There was a moment of stark silence. Yata’s skin prickled up.

_She can tell he’s not human?_

“Neko,” Isana admonished. “Be polite.”

“Hmph!” She puffed out her cheeks childishly, and then vanished with a small huff. In her place, a tiny silver kitten streaked across the floor and nudged through the door into the back room.

Yatogami sighed, took in what sounded like a steadying breath, and glanced ruefully around at the astonished patrons watching them. “Sorry for the disturbance,” he announced. “Please try to forget it.”

“We’re just practicing for an improv act,” Isana cut in smoothly, tilting his head with a cheerful smile. “Hopefully you all were entertained!”

As the patrons relaxed and turned back to their drinks and conversation, Isana lowered his voice to an undertone. “Sorry about that.” The smile he offered Fushimi was apologetic. “Neko’s very honest, and she’ll sometimes blurt things out like that when she gets excited. Hopefully you’re not offended.”

“As you may have noticed,” Yatogami added, with a meaningful glance in the direction of the back room, “we don’t discriminate against non-humans here. As long as you don’t intend any violence.”

Fushimi shrugged, accepting both apology and clarification. “I’m just here for coffee.”

“Well, this is the right place for that!” Isana waved an arm expansively. “I’ll let Kuroh help you guys out.” He took a couple of steps back toward the door, still smiling brightly. “Call me if there’s anything you need, all right, Kuroh?”

“Not so fast.” Yatogami’s voice was sharp; his stare piercing as he directed it at his employer. “You haven’t forgotten about your promise to fix the error on the till from last night, have you?”

“What? Of course not!” Isana’s grin took on a tiny hint of strain. “I just have a _few_ more things to take care of in the back first, and I’ll be _right_ out to deal with that!”

Yatogami’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t forget it again.”

“I won’t, don’t worry!” Isana was already opening the door and moving through it before he’d finishing speaking. “See you later, Yata! Nice meeting you, Fushimi! Bye!”

There was an awkward pause after his departure.

Yatogami sighed again, facing them. “So one regular latte,” he noted, and glanced at Fushimi. “And what are you having?”

“Large double Americano,” Fushimi responded promptly – as if he couldn’t wait to get this all over with.

“For here or to go?”

_What the hell, why not?_ They weren’t in any rush, considering the weather and Munakata’s seemingly infinite patience. He could work well into the evening if he had to. “We’ll drink ’em here,” Yata responded, reaching out to retrieve the sack of beans from the counter.

“Will we?” Fushimi mumbled, with clear sarcasm. “Somehow I don’t remember having that conversation.”

Yata ignored him, tucking the sack into his backpack. “Like I said, for here.”

Yatogami raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “Together or separate?”

“Sep – ”

“Together,” Fushimi cut in. He materialized the credit card from the other day between his fingers when Yata turned to stare at him. “You were the one complaining about the fact that I drank the last of your coffee. I’ll pay you back right now.”

That was a tempting offer - and pretty reasonable. Yata wrestled with his pride for a moment, before deciding ‘what the hell?’ and giving in with a short nod. “Yeah, okay.”

He had to move aside as Fushimi stepped up to the counter. It gave him a bit of a weird feeling, like he’d lost control of the encounter. Something about watching Fushimi in particular pay for both of their coffees, which they were going to take to one of those cozy two-person tables and drink together, felt... funny.

There was no reason for it, but there it was.

It didn’t take Yatogami long to make their drinks and they took a table in the corner, near the window and far from the other customers in the place. Yata stowed the backpack with his umbrella and the sack of coffee beans under the table.

They’d have to stop at his apartment to drop those off before heading to Munakata’s, but that was okay; it wasn’t like he had set hours, after all. If he ended up missing out on some cash, it’d be worth it to chill out for a while.

“What makes the coffee in this place so great?” Fushimi asked him once they’d sat down. He took a small sip and added, “I’ll admit it's better than most, but...”

“They use magic.” Yata set his own mug down so it could cool. “That woman – Neko – she’s Isana’s familiar. Apparently her talent is altering reality. Kinda like your illusions, but more... I dunno... inward? Feelings and stuff." It probably wasn’t the best way to explain it, but whatever. “When she has really vivid dreams, the good feelings soak into the beans somehow. So the coffee makes you feel better.” He shrugged. “It's great for hangovers.”

“You would know, I suppose,” Fushimi murmured, a hint of a smirk tilting his lips up at the corners.

“Shut up! That was _one_ time, okay?” Yata kicked him under the table. For some reason, the comment didn’t irritate him as much as it would’ve before. “Anyway, it’s probably the only reason we didn’t fucking kill each other back at the start.”

“That explains a lot,” Fushimi commented dryly. He set his mug down, meeting Yata’s gaze across the table. “Is there a reason you decided we were going to stay here and drink these?”

Yata shrugged again. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why that whim had struck him. “Just felt like it.”

“Hm.” Fushimi's answering hum was skeptical. He lowered his lids, another little smirk at the ready. “If you’re really that desperate for a date, you should’ve made that your contract instead.”

_Date._ The word hit him like a bolt of electricity, setting off a shock that rippled through his body, prickling up his skin.

_Oh... fuck._

So that was where the funny feeling had come from. Yata felt a sudden fierce rush of mortification surge through him, tingling skin burning in its wake – a mix that resulted in an intensely uncomfortable sensation. Right, yeah… Fushimi had paid for them both, and now here they were in a cutesy cafe at a tiny table meant for two, which was _totally date-like_ , and he hadn’t even realized it.

_Shit…_

The silence stretched on painfully as he tried to come up with some response, and then Fushimi hummed lightly, smirk widening. “Too embarrassed to admit it? That's cute.”

Yata scowled back at him, irritation seeping in through his flustered paralysis. “Shut up,” he muttered, feeling his face burn, and busied himself with his coffee to avoid that smug gaze.

The worst part of it – the part he didn’t want to admit on pain of death – was that the initial shock wasn’t _unpleasant_. For a second – just a tiny, stupid second – the idea of a _date_ had felt… nice. Exciting, even.

It was infuriating – humiliating. His own brain betraying him. And because of the contract and the shared emotions, _Fushimi knew it_.

_Goddamnit…_

He was bracing himself for more teasing, scowling at the mug in his hands, but nothing came. The silence from across the table was starting to felt almost stifling as the seconds ticked by – what the hell was going on? Yata took a hasty sip of his coffee, absorbing the familiar pleasure of both taste and feeling for a bit of a boost, and set the mug down on the table before finally giving in to the urge to look up and see what Fushimi was doing.

Blue-grey eyes met his immediately and from far too close a distance for his liking. Fushimi was resting his chin on his hand, elbow braced on the table and head tilted as he studied Yata. In the instant that their gazes locked, the expression on his face was almost baffled: eyebrows knit, tiny frown on his lips, and eyes searching.

It was the look of someone struggling with a particularly difficult puzzle.

Not for the first time since they’d met, Yata found himself struck dumb, helplessly captivated by the charm of that open uncertainty. He wasn’t sure what to do with that look – wasn’t sure what he _wanted_ to do – but something within him stirred to life all the same.

The table they were at really was way too small…

Fushimi blinked, interrupting that short moment, and then clicked his tongue, expression seeming to shutter up as he lowered his hand and turned his head. “What?” he muttered.

“Huh?” Yata stared at his profile, caught off guard by the abrupt change in mood. He shook his head to clear it and then frowned. “What d’you mean ‘what’? You were the one staring at me!”

The second click of Fushimi’s tongue was almost resentful; when he spoke again, his tone was grudging. “What do you expect when you react like that?”

Yata blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean? React like _what?_ ”

At that, Fushimi let out a breath, shut his eyes for a moment, and then turned his head again, reopening them lazily. That tiny smirk was spreading on his face again. “Figure it out for yourself,” he drawled, raising his mug for a sip. Just before bringing it to his lips, he added in a lower tone, “ _Misaki_.”

And for some reason, just that – just the _name_ , with the timbre and pitch of Fushimi’s voice – had heat spreading all the way across Yata’s face, to the tips of his ears.

Disgustingly, traitorously, _irresistibly_ good.

And beyond fucked up. But in that moment, even as he protested loudly, glaring across the table with as much force as he could muster, it was hard to properly care.


	10. Chapter 10

It ended up raining for the rest of the week.

By Sunday, the sky was showing signs of starting to clear – barely. It was still overcast, but the cloud cover was spottier, and the weather forecast on Yata’s phone indicated that they might have sun by the afternoon.

_Fucking perfect._ He was gonna have to fly out for a harvest, and it would’ve sucked to do in the rain. Plus, once he finished, they might even be able to charge up the moonstone a bit. And if the weather held, a sunstone charge was possible too.

One step closer to getting rid of this stupid contract.

Not that things were all that bad any more. Having Fushimi tagging along as some kinda shadow in his life was starting to become routine. Despite the occasional mockery and more than a few arguments, they could more or less talk normally to each other. He’d stopped being surprised at how much they tended to agree on; it turned out that, despite their vastly different personalities, they liked a lot of the same shit and held a lot of the same opinions.

Weird as hell to discover that, but it made things a little easier.

“Where exactly did you say we’re going again?” Fushimi asked him as Yata distributed a pinch of his invisibility spell onto each of them.

“Right now?” Yata grabbed the rucksack he’d thrown together, jars clinking inside of it as he settled it over one bare shoulder. “Munakata’s. Just to get his offering, though. Then we’re heading out.”

He got a flat stare in response. “Don’t dodge the question. Heading out _where?_ ”

Yata grinned, shifting so the strap would fall just outside of where his wings would emerge from his back. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, frown deepening, but didn’t comment.

Being able to fly again felt great – like stretching out his muscles and running around outside after being cooped up indoors for a long period of time. Despite the fact that it wasn’t really necessary, Yata beat his wings harder to rise up further above the city, catching the wind for a long moment of just feeling his body drift. The rush of fierce joy at that simple but freeing sensation was worth the slight delay before he dove a little and shifted himself in the right direction to aim for Munakata’s office building. He was grinning as he landed, looking up without even thinking to meet Fushimi’s gaze as he followed suit.

Regardless of everything else, it really was awesome to have someone he could fly with.

Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him in response, but there was no irritation in his expression, so the feeling might even have been mutual. “You’re easily satisfied, huh?”

Yata retracted his wings, tugging on his shirt with a good-natured hum. “Life’s better that way.”

There was a brief silence; when he glanced over again, Fushimi was watching him with a look that Yata could only classify as ‘mysterious’. “I’ll take your word for it,” he responded after a second, turning his gaze and moving in the direction of Munakata’s office.

“You’re happier being gloomy all the time, right?” Yata smirked at him as they approached the entrance to the building.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Define ‘happier’.”

“Yeah, yeah – you know what I mean.”

As expected, Munakata had already prepared a list and a pouch with his offering, so they didn’t have to waste time in his office. Which was a relief. Yata was happier with that part past him, bringing out his wings again and lifting himself above the city for a second time. He was starting to anticipate what was ahead now – not so much of a surge of excitement or anything, but rather a small seed of contentment planting itself in his heart in advance. His body seemed to know what was coming too, relishing in the longer flight and tingling with expectation.

Even flying, it took a while to get outside of the city – from there it was still a bit further until signs of civilization became sparser and they reached the small grove of trees that was their destination. It was easy to mark due to the patch of bare, cleared-off land and faded scorch marks – the remnants of the fire ritual they held yearly at this exact place.

_That’s coming up soon too, huh?_ Hopefully this contract crap would be taken care of beforehand.

They landed just outside of the grove, and Yata busied himself with retracting his wings and pulling on a shirt again. If Fushimi hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have bothered with that part, but he was still way too conscious of any exposed skin when the two of them were together.

Annoying, but it couldn’t be helped.

“What’s special about this place?” Fushimi asked; when Yata glanced at him, he was eyeing their surroundings dubiously.

“I’ll show you.” Yata returned the exasperated look he got for that with a grin, energized. Now that he was this close… Yeah, he could feel it. Something natural and relaxing. Familiar. “C’mon.”

Fushimi took in a sharp breath, as if preparing to say something, and then sighed instead. “Fine.”

The uneven ring of trees that marked the outside of the grove looked totally ordinary – simple, solid brown trunks rising up tall, moss at the bases and overgrowth lining the spaces between. Rising up out of the tall grass where they were standing, it seemed to stand aloof, no natural openings or pathways leading in. But it wasn’t exactly unwelcoming or difficult, either – Yata could easily push his way through the plant life without any trouble.

Behind him, he could hear Fushimi grumbling under his breath with clear annoyance; obviously, he didn’t care much for ‘roughing it’.

_Well, I get it._ For the most part, Yata was a city guy himself. But this was different.

When they pushed in far enough, they reached the base of a mound of grassy, moss-covered earth, jutting out from the other plants around it as if in defiance of its surroundings. The trees were sparse around it, as if the entire grove had chosen to defer to it in terms of space.

“Don’t walk on it,” Yata warned as Fushimi came up behind him. He cut to the side, circling around the mound towards the back.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I wasn’t planning on it. Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends what you think it is.” There – the dark crack at the base, as if the earth had split from some tension. Yata crouched down, sliding his rucksack free again and retrieving the pouch from Munakata as well as his own offerings. “Gimme a sec.”

He knelt down and began to pull the heavy gold coins from the pouch one at a time, holding each one in front of his face before setting it firmly in front of the opening. The clink as he stacked them was almost musical, sounding off in what seemed like an unusually loud manner in the stillness of the grove.

When he finished with the coins, his own stuff was next. On these, he usually went with his instincts, and sometimes it ended up being weird shit. A childhood toy he’d salvaged from his parents’ house, repaired over and over by his mother through the years. An old hairbrush with strands of his hair still caught in the bristles. Cooking utensils he’d recently replaced. A tiny figure made from matchsticks glued together by Totsuka to amuse Anna, which she’d placed into Yata’s hands instead.

Some of it was admittedly kinda hard to part with, but he did what he had to. In the end, it was the memories that were important, not the stuff that went with them.

Finishing with the small pile left there, Yata stood, brushed himself off with satisfaction, and then stepped over it, approaching Fushimi. “Let’s go.”

Fushimi’s brow furrowed. “Go where?”

“Back around.” Yata waved at the mound, which blocked their view of the path they’d come in on. “That way.”

“Are you serious?” Fushimi clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes as he turned around. “What was the point of all this?”

“Just go.”

An impatient sigh was his response, but Fushimi did as he was told.

Yata grinned to himself and followed.

They rounded the corner of the mound that had been blocking their view, and he had to stop abruptly to avoid crashing into Fushimi, who had planted himself without warning, body tensing up. Yata huffed out a soft ‘heh’ and edged around him, peering up at his face with satisfaction to take in the startled reaction.

“What,” Fushimi began, and then let whatever he was going to ask die on his lips.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Yata prodded him, and edged the rest of the way around him to take the lead, stepping away from the mound and waving his hand expansively. “Yatagarasu’s hidden stash.”

The better word would have been ‘garden’, but even that wasn’t quite accurate – and it definitely didn’t sound cool enough. Rather than the sparse and uncontrolled plant life from before, in front of them now was a clearing with well-trimmed rows of various plants, outlined by trees of all sorts: different sizes, different shapes, and clearly different breeds. It stretched on for a long ways, illuminated by sun that hadn’t been visible in the sky before in some places and shadowed in others – even raining or snowing in some corners – creating the illusion of varying environments but transitioning so seamlessly that it felt like one big natural section of land, surrounded closely by forest.

“What is this?” Fushimi mumbled, voice a curious mix of wariness and something that came close to wonder.

“Guess you’d call it a fairy garden. Or something.” Yata braced his hands on his hips, unable to help the little rush of pride as he watched Fushimi’s eyes move around the area, taking everything in. “I mean, I planted all this stuff. But it’s _theirs_ – they take care of it. So even if I’m the one who gave it to them, I still can’t harvest without an offering.”

Fushimi’s eyes met his again. “You planted this?”

“Yeah.” Yata nodded. “Well, most of it. Kusanagi-san was the one who helped me set this up. And it took a lot of trial and error at first. But I got the hang of it.” He stepped carefully around some of the rows, reaching out to give one of the trees a lively rap with his knuckles. “I put this guy in just a year ago – he was a sapling then.”

Fushimi frowned, eyes narrowing. “There’s no way that tree is only a year old.”

Yata grinned at him. “Remember, this is fae territory – stuff matures differently.” Which reminded him… “We don’t wanna spend too much time here, actually.” He set the rucksack down again, reaching inside for one of the jars. “Just hang out there for a bit while I grab what I need, okay?”

“Mm.”

It wasn’t a firm confirmation, but with the way Fushimi kept looking around, it was clear he was distracted. Yata couldn’t help but smile to himself, letting out a huff that was a mix of pride and amusement. _He likes it, huh?_

Well… maybe ‘like’ was a strong word, but still, the place had his interest.

The contentment he’d been anticipating since they’d begun their flight out had reached him now that he was there in the center of the place, soaking in the atmosphere. He could feel that sense of familiarity – of almost but not quite _belonging_ – that settled in his veins and seeped into his bones, energizing and reviving him. Here, he could feel the frustration and impatience and helpless irritations from his everyday life melting off of him until it gathered in an inconsequential pool at his feet.

It was intoxicating… and also dangerous. If he stayed too long, he’d probably not end up going back at all.

That was something he’d considered seriously a time or two in the past.

Yata turned his attention to gathering what he needed to avoid that thought: first his own stuff, and then whatever Munakata was asking for. Dream root to exchange for coffee beans. Myrrh resin and marjoram for the invisibility powder. Since it was so close to Dark Moon and it’d still be fresh enough, dill weed as well. Powder scraped from a Slippery Elm.

When he’d finished with his own harvest – as much as his offerings would allow, anyway – he gave in to the call of the garden urging him to take a break, sealing off the jars and sliding them back into the rucksack before slinging it over his shoulder and looking up toward the mound again.

Fushimi was still standing there, looking thoroughly out of place in the middle of that green fantasy-land. He was holding himself somewhat awkwardly, hands in his pockets and posture tense. It seemed like he’d been studying his surroundings with what looked like a mix of boredom and apprehension, but he shifted his gaze quickly when Yata moved toward him. “Done?”

“Nah. Just a break.” It kinda helped to have someone else there, honestly – it grounded him. Reminded him where he came from, too. “I still gotta get a bunch of stuff, but…” He shrugged, shutting his eyes for a moment and breathing in deeply. “Feels good here.”

Fushimi was silent for a moment. Then, “Isn’t that the dangerous part of a place like this?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Yata snorted, opening his eyes again with a rueful smile. “Doesn’t feel like it to me, though.” He reached out impulsively to brush his fingers against the bark of the nearest tree, eyes following the path they mapped. “Guess that’s normal, considering… Yeah.” Even as the words left his mouth, some tiny part of him swelled up with a longing he didn’t really understand.

The life of this place… It was joyful, but it also made him feel kinda sad for no reason sometimes. He didn’t really get it.

“Maybe,” Fushimi agreed. When Yata turned to look at him again, he tilted his head, eyes narrow and alert. “But you don’t belong here. It’s just a place you can run away to and pretend, right?”

The unexpected accuracy of that observation felt sharp. Yata sucked in a breath, the sting echoing out from his chest and rising up his throat. He turned away with a frown, watching his fingers slide against the rough surface of the tree as he clenched them into a fist. “Yeah, probably,” he responded harshly, and barked out a humorless laugh. “Dumb, huh?”

If anything, he expected Fushimi to agree or just plain mock him, so the cool fingers that wrapped around his wrist were enough of a surprise that he put up no resistance at all when they pulled his hand away from the tree.

Sudden clarity seemed to sweep back through his thoughts like a particularly fierce gust of wind, wiping the traces of reverie and discontent that had begun to settle. Yata glanced up, startled, and met Fushimi’s blue-grey eyes without thinking. They were studying him with intensity beneath the usual half-lowered lids, and for a dizzying moment, Yata had the irrational impression that he could fall right into them.

When Fushimi spoke again, his voice was pitched low. The words came out almost awkwardly, as if he wasn’t quite sure how he wanted to say them. “It seemed like you already had one of those, though. A place to belong.”

The unexpectedly kind intent behind the words had Yata blinking at him, caught without a response. “R-right,” he managed and swallowed, trying to steady his voice. “Yeah. I do.”

Wasn’t like he didn’t know it – hadn’t already sorted it out a while back; the importance of Homra and their significance in his life – but this was… It seemed like Fushimi was trying to comfort him in an odd way, and somehow he couldn’t help but feel at ease.

As if he sensed that – well, he probably did – Fushimi clicked his tongue, expression settling into a more familiar irritation. “You’re really not what I would’ve expected.”

“Huh?” Yata frowned back, furrowing his eyebrows. “What’s that mean?”

“For a changeling,” Fushimi explained dryly. “I’m not sure what my expectations were, but it wasn’t someone so…” He paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. “… grounded.”

“Heh.” That, he could understand. “Y’know, I get that a lot.”

“Those exact words?”

“Well, no, but… C’mon, you know what I mean!” Yata shook his head, the beginnings of a rueful grin starting on his face. “I’ve always just felt… normal. People say it to me a lot, too. If I don’t pull my wings out or something, I’m just some regular guy on the street.” He reached up to rub at the back of his neck automatically, feeling a bit awkward about it. “Just, every now and then I get these weird feelings. Like I’m more aware of shit. A lot of it’s instinct, but…” He could remember some moments from his childhood, stuff that got brushed aside as him being a weird kid with way too much energy. It wasn’t entirely pleasant. “I guess I had a hard time finding a place where I fit,” he admitted, trying to make his voice gruff to cover the rush of sudden emotion.

He wasn’t really sure why he bothered, considering Fushimi could just feel it, but his pride wasn’t gonna let him show it anyway.

Fushimi had been watching him attentively; something in his expression seemed to subtly shift as Yata made the confession. After a second or so of hesitation, he offered, “I know the feeling.”

“Huh, really?” Yata blinked, surprised. “You had trouble fitting in at like demon school or something?”

For a moment, Fushimi stared at him – and then the corners of his mouth twitched, shoulders shaking slightly before he tipped his head forward, letting out a short, breathy huff of laughter. “Are you serious? ‘Demon school’?”

“Hey, how should I know?” Yata felt prickling heat crawling up along the line of his neck and over his jawline – partly indignant at being laughed at and partly… embarrassed.

Because honestly, Fushimi’s laughing face was… appealing.

Fushimi’s fingers were still wrapped around his wrist too, Yata realized, and the sudden awareness of the touch coiled snakelike within him, quick and sly and burning like fire. But not unpleasant.

Awkward as hell, yeah… but not unpleasant at all.

As the traces of laughter faded, Fushimi looked up again and met his gaze, the remains of a smile still on his lips, and the awareness snake in Yata’s belly seemed to slide around, sending off a shiver of sudden and helpless attraction through his body.

Fushimi’s fingers tightened briefly on his wrist, almost reflexively, and then he released it. “You should finish,” he pointed out, glancing away from Yata’s face. “Like you said before, it’s better not to stay here too long, right?”

Yata wasn’t entirely sure if it was more relief or disappointment he felt surging up in the wake of that. “Yeah… Right.” He resisted the urge to touch the place on his wrist where Fushimi’s fingers had held it, turning away instead and taking a steadying breath. “On it.”

It took a long time afterwards for even the atmosphere in that particular place to settle his heart back down to anything like a normal rate.


	11. Chapter 11

A little over two weeks later, their number of charges had increased from two to… five.

It was pitiful, honestly. Not to mention frustrating. The weather had been relentless, though – for two solid weeks after the first time he brought Fushimi along for a harvest, it had either dumped rain all day or remained just cloudy enough that the sun or moon barely had a chance to peek through. It was almost like the sky was revolting against them, laughing at their helplessness in the face of its refusal to cooperate.

The past night had been the first time it had cleared up since that Sunday – and, unfortunately, that had unveiled a brand new problem.

That problem was the moon.

The _last quarter_ moon.

With the gloomy weather, Yata hadn’t had much sense of the moon for a while, which was fine, if a little depressing. The last time they’d been out in it, the moon had been waning, which dulled the impact and made it easier to resist temptation.

This moon was waxing, and it was gonna be full soon. Which was… bad.

Time and familiarity hadn’t exactly dulled that sharp attraction he’d had to Fushimi from the start – if anything, it was worse now than it ever had been. The constant teasing didn’t help; in fact, it fueled things even more because Yata was pretty fucking sure that Fushimi was at _least_ halfway not joking. He sometimes wondered if his own gazes were as heated and hungry as the ones he received in those moments of deliberate intensity. Every time they touched, no matter how slight or casual, the sensation was electric. They were always together, forced into proximity by the contract, and rather than easing things off due to familiarity, it felt like the tension between them heightened by the day. Things would be perfectly normal and then the slightest thing would remind him that – oh, right – sex was a thing and he kinda really wanted to do it with this guy, and his libido just wouldn’t _fucking shut up_.

These days, sleeping with his bedroom door shut was more about resisting temptation than any kind of self-preservation. He didn’t trust himself.

He’d been avoiding all that shit well enough, though. And then the weather had cleared...

“So…” Fushimi paused his typing, looking up from his laptop to eye Yata pointedly across the table. “Are we heading out, or are you planning to sit here and waste the whole night?”

Yata looked up from the comic he hadn’t really been reading – well, okay, he had been, but he kept losing focus and having to find his place again, so same thing – to frown back. “It’s still early.”

“The moon’s out,” Fushimi drawled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “The sooner we go, the less chance of cloud cover rolling in. Right?”

True, but… _Ugh._ Even just sitting there, Yata was hyper aware of the moonlight’s pull. Normally it was a good thing – energizing and pleasant – but right then it was just reminding him of a certain recent humiliation. “I get that! We’ll go in a bit, okay?”

He got a raised eyebrow in response. “If this is about last night – ”

“Shut _up_ about last night,” Yata cut him off, frown deepening to a scowl.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I don’t see what the big deal is,” he muttered, his eyes sharp as he watched Yata from across the table. “The only one who saw it was me. Do I have to remind you that I really don’t care?”

“That’s not the point!” Yata slammed the comic down, glaring back at him. “It’s…” He scowled, unable to come up with a good way to explain his feelings, and reached up to scratch the back of his head with agitation.

His pride had taken a hit, that was all. And yeah, it really _did_ matter that Fushimi was the one to see it. It mattered because he’d been _talking_ to Fushimi, not about anything sexual, but his eyes kept catching on the motions of those thin lips and the moonlight was accentuating all of his feelings, attraction and lust more than anything. He’d been so caught up in the pleasant urges swarming his body that he hadn’t even _noticed_ their outward effect until Fushimi had looked down, lowered his lids, and offered that deadly little smirk of his.

_“Not bad.”_

Just remembering it had his face burning. Yata looked away, letting out a sharp ‘ch’ through the side of his mouth. He’d popped awkward boners before, but usually with his _shirt_ on or at least some other way to hide it. And not with the cause staring right at it!

Fucking humiliating, no matter how he looked at it.

And it got even worse when he’d jerked off in the shower later. He was already having to do that every night without fail, just to relieve some of the tension that had built up, but this time he couldn’t get that look or that smirk out of his head. He hit orgasm right as Fushimi’s voice played over in his head, low and throaty and promising, and spent the next several minutes standing there in the lukewarm spray feeling physically satiated and mentally wishing fervently for death.

He was pretty sure Fushimi knew some of it – hard to hide much from him, considering their situation – but they hadn’t exactly talked about it. He’d avoided Fushimi’s gaze entirely when he’d left the bathroom and ducked immediately into his bedroom instead, closing the door. The subject hadn’t been raised at all the next morning, and they’d gone about their day as if it had never happened, even completing the third charge on the moonstone with little to no awkwardness.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy to block it out of his head.

“It’s… what?” Fushimi challenged when the silence stretched out, still with that drawling tone.

_Seriously, fuck this._ Yata deliberately braced his hand on the table, pushing himself up with force. “Never mind,” he snapped back, bruised pride making him tense and irritable. He deliberately avoided meeting Fushimi’s gaze. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Finally.”

It was hard not to be aware of those eyes on him as he pulled off his shirt – even harder to avoid it when casting the invisibility spell. When he took off, it was without warning, climbing over the railing just outside his apartment and jumping off recklessly. The momentum and the rush helped enormously to push that frustrating embarrassment aside.

This whole situation sucked, but at least he had _some_ outlets.

Landing on the spot they’d discovered the previous night – a school rooftop – brought it all back again, unfortunately. The strength of the moon’s energy washed over him the instant he landed, pleasant and seductive all at once. He had to take a moment to shut his eyes, bracing himself.

If only it wasn’t so damn _good_ …

Fushimi landed only a few minutes later, and Yata hastily retracted his wings, fumbling to pull his shirt on again. He felt way too nervous about all the exposed skin, and at least this way he’d have some sort of shield if there was a repeat of last night.

It seemed like he was the only one reacting to that awkward mood – at least on the outside – because Fushimi immediately busied himself with pulling the sunstone from his pocket and holding it out. Even before looking up, Yata could catch the sense of it beginning its sluggish absorption. It was a nice distraction, actually; they had an actual reason for being out other than just getting emotionally jerked off by moonlight.

Not that he really wanted to think about being jerked off right at that moment…

“Are you going to stand there the whole time?” Fushimi asked drily, cutting into that thought. When Yata turned, he found that Fushimi had sat with his back against the wall that lined the roof they were on, leaning against it casually as he rested his arm on his knee, palm up with the stone charging.

Somehow, it felt kinda like they were kids sneaking in outside school hours. Not that Yata had done much of that – he hadn’t had any really close friends in school – but it felt weirdly nostalgic all the same. Enough that he felt able to nudge aside some of that mood from earlier and relax enough to walk over slump down roughly a short distance away. “Right, sorry. I’m good.”

“I’m not sure why you’re apologizing to me.” Fushimi raised an eyebrow at him. “But if it makes you feel better, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata shrugged that off, avoiding turning his head to look fully at Fushimi. His goal was to keep his mind off of the tantalizing pull of the moonlight, and if he kept focusing on unrelated stuff, that’d probably be easier. Hopefully. “It’s a habit.”

Fushimi snorted. “Not that I’ve noticed, it isn’t.”

“Yeah, well.” Yata shrugged. “No reason for me to wanna apologize to _you_ most of the time.”

He got a small, amused hum in response. “And yet, here we are.”

“Hey, I said _most_ of the time.” He barely stopped himself from glancing over with a quick grin. _Right. No looking right now._ “Gimme a break here.”

“Which is why I wouldn’t call it a habit,” Fushimi responded without missing a beat. His voice was amused but lacking any kind of mockery when he added, “This is such a stupid conversation.”

“You started it,” Yata shot back, but his own grin was widening; he couldn’t help but agree.

_Since when did we start chatting about dumb things like this?_ Casual things. Lightly bantering with no intention of winning arguments. Commenting about the smallest stuff and being able to engage with each other over it.

It was… surprisingly easy.

Fushimi offered an amused huff, but didn’t take the bait, instead falling silent. Yata let that quiet spread between them instead of trying to break it himself, leaning his head back against the wall behind him and letting his gaze settle somewhere around the door that led into the school to avoid fixing it on either Fushimi or the moon.

It felt kinda nice, just sitting together in companionable silence; if he wasn’t hyper aware of the moonlight sinking in under his skin and trying to light up his nerves, he probably would’ve enjoyed it. There wasn’t a need to say or do anything in particular; just the act of being there, the two of them in a quiet, empty world, was enough to keep any kind of loneliness at bay.

Which was… weird. It wasn’t always like this. Fushimi was always _there_ , which was nice in some ways – not feeling lonely any more, for one – but it was seriously too much sometimes too. There were times he would’ve liked a break that wasn’t spent hiding in his bathroom or bedroom. Or just to be able to go places by himself. And with all the complaints and the grumbling, he was pretty sure Fushimi felt the same way. But on the other hand, there were moments like this, where he was just glad for the company, quiet or not.

Seriously, how long had it been since the silence between them felt comfortable rather than awkward? He couldn’t place the exact point when the change had happened.

In a way, that was kind of unnerving, but also somehow… not bad.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there letting his thoughts wander before Fushimi spoke again. “How much longer do you think this will be?”

It was a pretty common question when they were at this. Yata turned without thinking. “Let’s see…” He reached out immediately to touch the stone, realization only just hitting as he felt the hint of warmth against his side that he’d shifted into Fushimi’s personal space. Immediately, he found himself glancing up, pin-pricks of surprise scattering across his skin as those devastating eyes met his, dark and glittering in the pale light.

Desire stirred in the pit of Yata’s belly, slow and seductive but heightened by the moon’s energy to something more like a physical ache. He was close enough that he could’ve reached up to touch that fine-boned face without straining himself if he wanted to.

And, oh yeah, he _wanted_ to. The pads of his fingers tingled at the thought of running brushing them over Fushimi’s skin, maybe letting his thumb trail deliberately across the corner of those thin lips…

_Shit._ Clamping down on that thought, Yata hastily shuffled back to his original spot, heart racing and cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment as he deliberately turned his gaze in front of him again. “It… yeah, it, uh, it’ll probably be done soon – like maybe a few minutes or, I dunno – ”

Fushimi clicked his tongue sharply, interrupting that useless stream of words. When he spoke again, it was in a low mumble. “Are you really that determined not to get another boner in front of me?”

Yata gaped at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected bluntness of that question. “… eh?” was about all he could manage after the initial awkward moments of speechlessness.

_Did he seriously just ask…?_

“I’m not really sure why we’re playing this game in the first place,” Fushimi continued, his tone that mix of unconcerned and superior that tended to drive Yata up the wall. “I can feel your emotions, so it’s not like you’re hiding anything. And it’s not like I’ve never seen another man’s erect – ”

“Stop right there!” Yata blurted the words without even thinking, too mortified by this frank conversation to let it go on. “Look, fine, okay, you’ve seen some boners. Great. I’m happy for you, or something.” He heaved an agitated breath, glaring at Fushimi to cover his fit of nerves. “But do we seriously have to fucking _talk_ about this? It was embarrassing!”

Fushimi stared back at him with unimpressed eyes. “It’s only embarrassing because you fight with yourself so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s like you constantly expect to be judged or to have some kind of ‘tough guy’ points taken away from you for your preferences. Or even your name, for that matter.” He clicked his tongue again. “Anyone who’s going to judge you on those things is worthless, so what’s the point of trying to impress them?”

Once again, Yata found himself caught speechless. _He guessed all that?_ This was stuff he’d spent years coming to terms with, painstakingly identifying each long-held assumption and prying them loose from actual facts. For it to be summed up and stated so casually… It was jarring.

Hastily gathering his wits, Yata managed to resume his glare. “Oi… I never asked you to pull some psychology bullshit on me! Don’t just run your mouth off about shit you don’t know anything about!”

“I don’t know anything, huh?” Fushimi raised his other eyebrow, voice drawing out into a drawl. “I’ve spent nearly a month in your head, so maybe I know more than you think.” He lowered his eyebrows, letting his lids go heavy. “Let me take a guess at why you get so embarrassed whenever sex comes up: it’s because you prefer to bottom. Maybe not all the time, but most of the time. And you assume anyone who finds out is going to make some kind of _assumptions_ about you because of it. Am I right?”

The shock that struck him at that was accompanied by a rush of sudden and fierce embarrassment. Yata floundered for a moment. “Wait – how…?”

“You’re easy to read when it comes to this.” The corners of Fushimi’s mouth edged up just slightly, almost lazily. By contrast, his eyes were intent. “You admit to being gay, but you’re still ridiculously defensive about anything sex-related – the same way you are with your name. It only gets worse when the hints are more direct; the backlash I get from you makes it pretty obvious it bothers you.” He tipped his head forward, lashes veiling his eyes again. “It’s pointless, by the way. That kind of stuff doesn’t mean anything outside the bedroom.”

An unexpected little surge of surprised gratification at the last bit cut into his irritation with the rest; Yata did his best to push it down, determined not to stand down. “I _know_ that already,” he gritted out in response, scowling back. The combination of Fushimi’s tone, expression, and intensity were awakening that halfway-stifled arousal within his body again, which was frustrating on top of everything but couldn’t be helped. “I already figured most of this shit out. I’m _working_ on it, not that it’s any of your business.” He let out his breath sharply and muttered, “Not like I wanna share this crap with every asshole who blows into my life.”

Fushimi made a small, amused-sounding huff. “You’re already sharing most of it with me, whether you want to or not. That’s beside the point, though.” His eyes were still sharp on Yata’s face. “You know as well as I do that a girly name doesn't make you feminine somehow, magically. And you don't morph into some stereotype just for enjoying being fucked.” He made a derisive noise. “Anyone who thinks otherwise isn't worth your time; you're better off weeding them out quickly.”

It still wasn't anything Yata hadn't worked out for himself – and hard as hell to put into practice; he didn't need asshole strangers judging him. But hearing Fushimi _say_ it… It changed things. Some small, defensive reflex he hadn’t realized he’d been engaging released its hold with those words, a rush of relief surprising him with its intensity. It struck him then that he’d been cagey about those things deliberately from the start: on the defense over his name even when Fushimi hadn’t made any comment about it outside of Yata’s own reactions, and fiercely embarrassed by his own lustful fantasies. He’d _expected_ Fushimi to judge him; to act smug and assume he’d scored a point of superiority because Yata wanted – really badly wanted – to be fucked by him.

But that had just been his assumption, based on his own prejudice and the last dregs of stubborn internal shame he couldn’t seem to shake. As usual.

That was still sinking in when Fushimi let out a huff of breath, partly amused and partly resigned. “You're so single-minded,” he murmured, eyes going lidded again as his lips quirked up. “How long were you planning to pretend I can’t feel everything you do when you get all worked up?”

That fucking expression… And the heat in his gaze… _Damnit._ Yata clenched his teeth harder against the pleasant shiver he couldn’t manage to repress.

Fushimi didn’t even wait for him to collect himself, drawling out, “It’s not like I mind it.” His little smirk widened further. “You should know that much by now.”

_Fuck._ This was getting dangerous. Yeah, of course he knew that Fushimi didn’t mind this attraction – that he’d encourage it, even – but that didn’t mean… it didn’t mean he had to… that _they_ had to…

With the light of the moon washing over him encouragingly and his body starting to buzz with _want_ , it was hard as hell to figure out where that thought was going. Yata swallowed despite the fact that his mouth felt suddenly dry. Fushimi looked so good, sounded even better, and it would probably be amazing to touch him. To feel that smooth skin under his hands and Fushimi’s slender fingers on his body…

Knowing that Fushimi had figured him out, and didn’t _care_ – didn’t think of him or treat him any different…

It meant a lot. Everything. Like something within him had snapped. Yata felt loose… free, in a sense.

Every inch of him was thrumming with desire – with _pleasure_ , the way the moonlight sank into his skin and heightened every little sensation. He was moving before he was properly aware of it, shifting closer to Fushimi, the warmth between their bodies lighting his senses on fire as his eyes honed on that deadly smile… those lips that looked so tantalizing, so kissable…

The stone in Fushimi’s hand abruptly seemed to trill, like an alarm going off, and Yata stilled, the reality of their present situation washing over him again like ice water cooling the heated moment. He was mere inches from Fushimi’s face, close enough to feel the ghost of his breath, and he couldn’t even remember leaning in that far.

_Shit…_

“Uh… yeah…” Pulling back and turning his head, he cleared his throat in an attempt to recover some of his equilibrium. “That. The… stone. Y’know…”

Fushimi sighed. “I know.” His voice had gone flat, but he obligingly closed his fingers around the sunstone, clicking his tongue maybe a bit more harshly than usual. “It’s fine – I’ve got it.”

Restlessness was already surging through Yata’s veins, mingling with the remaining desire that he wasn’t going to be able to shake. Maybe it was the resignation in Fushimi’s tone – or maybe the moonlight had really gotten to him. But whatever it was, he couldn’t stand to just _sit_ there and waffle over this whole thing.

What the hell was wrong with him anyway? He wasn’t this indecisive normally.

_Forget this._ Pushing himself abruptly to his feet, Yata reached up to pull his shirt off, ignoring the fact that it left the tent in his shorts totally exposed.

Fushimi was right about that – who fucking cared? Who the hell did he think he was fooling?

Only himself, obviously.

When he glanced over, Fushimi was hastily pushing himself up as well, staring at Yata in perplexity. “What are you doing?”

There was an obvious bulge in the front of his pants as well, Yata couldn’t help but notice. Maybe it had been there last night too and he was just so wrapped up in his own insecurity that he hadn’t bothered to look. The thought – and the clear reality in front of him – sent another lustful little shudder through his body.

_Nice…_

Shrugging that aside, Yata grinned back, tucking his shirt into his pants and drawing out his wings smoothly. “Gonna take a flight.” He met Fushimi’s narrowing eyes with a heated look of his own. “We never did race, huh? Well, try and catch me – if you think you can.”

Without leaving any time for a reaction, he raised his wings and brought them down hard to push himself up and gain altitude, flapping quickly a few times to put distance between them and gain momentum.

Honestly, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing – this was just blindly following his instincts, caving in to that restless energy that it felt like his body couldn’t contain. With the moon’s light beating down on him, refreshing all of the pleasant feelings that coursed through his veins, he couldn’t resist the urge to laugh out loud.

_This is seriously the best!_ He hadn’t felt this good – this _free_ – in a long time.

Who cared about any of that small stuff, anyway?

That Fushimi was following right after him, he didn’t doubt. Not only because of the contract, either. In the time they’d known each other, he’d learned a thing or two. Fushimi couldn’t resist a challenge any more than he could, even if he reacted differently to it. And he was relentless when he set his mind to something. Which was… an enticing thought. In more ways than one.

Without noticing, he’d somehow aimed for his own apartment. With adrenaline still lighting his nerves on fire, Yata landed clumsily in front of his door, drawing in his wings as he fumbled with the lock and burst through – not even bothering to lose his shoes as he stumbled into the kitchen. Another breathless laugh bubbled up at the back of his throat and he braced himself on the counter with both hands, leaning forward heavily as he collected himself.

Except that there wasn’t going to be time for that.

A warm body pressed against his from behind before he could begin to sort out his thoughts, hands settling on his hips. “Caught you,” Fushimi drawled, his mouth so close to Yata’s ear that the heat of his breath teased at it.

The shiver that ran through Yata in response was involuntary but not unwelcome. Through the fog of desire clouding his brain, he recognized that Fushimi’s hold wasn’t exactly restrictive. If he wanted to, he could break free pretty easily.

If he wanted to…

The acceptance that had him tilting his head to the side to allow access must have been processed by Fushimi in the exact same moment, because he let out a shuddery breath, burying his face in the crook of Yata’s neck as his hands slid around to fumble with the fastening of his shorts.

_Fuck._ This was really happening. Yata bit back what was probably an embarrassing noise, reaching up to blindly brush his fingers against the side of Fushimi’s jaw. The skin held the very faint prickle of stubble, but it was mostly smooth and slightly clammy from the earlier exertion. When he moved his hand back and brushed Fushimi’s hair, it was softer than he’d expected.

_Feels nice…_

Fushimi had made quick work of his shorts, sliding them down off of Yata’s hips once the fly was open. One of his hands reached immediately down to cup the aching bulge in Yata’s underwear through the fabric, giving it a little squeeze.

The initial contact was like lightning. Yata couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him, fingers curling against Fushimi face. His other hand gripped the edge of the counter as sensation coursed through him.

He could feel as much as hear the pleased answering hum against his neck. Fushimi’s other hand rested on his abdomen, pulling him back so their bodies were flush. The feeling of warm, bare skin and the light echo of Fushimi’s heartbeat against his back had another shudder wracking his body, an involuntary sound escaping him as Fushimi thumbed the wet spot at the head of his dick. The unmistakable press of something hot and hard against his lower back fed into the pleasure, his muscles tensing with anticipation.

Fucking _good_ , and they’d barely started.

The pressure on his dick was short-lived; those graceful fingers slid free, gripping the elastic of his underwear in order to drag it down over and below his erection, leaving it gathered at the top of his thighs. Yata shifted to make it easier, deliberately leaning forward against the counter to lift his ass and press it back against Fushimi's body.

He could feel the sharp inhalation against his neck, but more than that, his attention was on the unmistakable press of skin against skin – the slick, hot glide of Fushimi’s cock against the crack of his ass. It drew another involuntary noise from his throat even before Fushimi’s hand was on him again, his skin prickling with pleasure and anticipation as fantasies started to form sharply in his mind.

It was almost possible to feel it: that hard length pressing inside him, stretching him out, hitting all those points that begged to be stimulated... Yata bit his lip, failing to suppress a moan as Fushimi’s fingers curled around him again, the stark relief of pressure on his dick hitting him even harder with the possibilities so clear in his mind. Fuck, he wanted it. He wanted to see what Fushimi’s face looked like in pleasure, to hear all the sounds he was suppressing now, to feel their bodies join.

It wasn't happening now, that much was for sure; there wasn't time for any kind of prep with their current pace. He could already feel the world around him starting to melt as sensation and urgency overtook him; the quickening of Fushimi's breath and the jerkiness of his motions signaled that he was at a similar point.

_This is gonna be fast..._ No helping it, though. He was so wound up he couldn't have held back if he wanted to.

Those longer fingers cupped Yata's balls, squeezing lightly and causing him to jerk at the influx of pleasure. He couldn't help the little “ah” that escaped him, followed by a gasp as Fushimi slid his hand up and gripped the base of his dick, finally giving it a firm, practiced stroke and deftly thumbing the tip. At the same time, he thrust against Yata's backside, his own hot erection sliding into the cleft and generating slick friction.

_Oh, fuck..._ The length of Fushimi's dick brushed dangerously close to his entrance, causing Yata to twitch and groan, body tensing at the dual stimulation from that and the hand working his cock over. Fushimi let out another of those appealing little whines, bending forward to press closer to him again. “Misaki,” he breathed against Yata’s neck, sounding almost desperate.

His first name had never sounded so _amazing_. Yata was unprepared for the extra surge of arousal it sent through him. _Damn…_

His thoughts were splintering, all of his focus going to the points where their bodies touched. He could feel Fushimi’s breath hot and frenzied against his neck, tiny little moans escaping as he began to thrust in earnest, chasing his own pleasure even as his hand began to move in tandem.

It was too much – too good. Yata felt the telltale urgency building fast in his gut and didn't even bother to fight it, reaching back again to clench his fingers in Fushimi’s hair as he approached his climax, thrusting as much as he was able to against that devilish double hold.

When he reached the peak, it was explosive; shuddering pleasure wracked his body and he didn't bother to hold in the cry that escaped him, releasing into Fushimi’s hand and clenching back instinctively against his dick. Through the rush of mindless relief, he felt the vibration of Fushimi’s answering moan just before teeth clamped hard on his neck, drawing out the moment with a mix of pleasure and pain.

_Shit... shit..._ Yata could barely think. He leaned heavily against the counter, panting, as his body processed the additional stimulation.

It was only a few more thrusts before he felt Fushimi follow, thin body trembling violently as his cock twitched, spilling onto Yata’s lower back. It was deliciously erotic to feel that release against him; Yata had another helpless, pleasant shiver overtake him in the aftermath. Fushimi let out a low whimper against his neck, mouth hot and wet against the sting of the bite he'd inflicted.

There was a short pause while they caught their breath and came down from the high.

In the immediate aftermath, Fushimi slumped over him, almost going boneless against Yata’s back as his cock started to soften. His fingers slid free, both hands hovering kind of awkwardly around Yata’s hips as if hesitant to wrap around him.

It was… strangely nice. The hint of vulnerability was endearing. Yata couldn’t help but smile slightly, deliberately sliding his fingers free of Fushimi’s hair and flexing them to ease the stiffness.

It was kinda weird… He’d just given into the impulse and hadn’t considered a lot of things. Like they weren’t exactly safe; Fushimi’s dick had been all over his ass without a damn condom or anything. As much as he was _pretty_ sure he wasn’t gonna get any kinda STD, it was way more careless than he usually was with this shit. He’d never lost his head so much that he hadn’t even _considered_ it. And they’d done it in the _kitchen_ , which was sorta gross – normally he wouldn’t wanna fuck anywhere near where he did his food prep and casting. Plus, Fushimi was still kind of an asshole and they hadn’t even confirmed that they were friends really, much less… this. Whatever it was.

But despite all of that – all the really good reasons why this was probably a huge mistake – he couldn’t bring himself to feel any kind of regret.

That had just been… well… _damn_ good. _Worth it._

As if sensing the good mood and determined to spoil it, Fushimi pulled back languidly, letting out a long breath as he separated them. “What kind of foreplay was that? ‘Come and catch me’ – really?”

“Heh.” The smile grew to a grin. Yata reached down to pull up his underwear, grimacing a little as he pieced his clothing together over his gross, sticky skin. It would’ve felt too weird to stay naked until he could clean himself off privately at that point, though, so he’d have to put up with it. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Anything would’ve worked by that point.” Fushimi’s voice was back to that drawl again, but there was a note of satisfaction in it. He offered what looked like an honest smile when Yata turned to meet his gaze, eyes glittering in the dim light behind his glasses. “Don’t give yourself _too_ much credit.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata shook his head, letting out a rueful huff and reaching up to rub at the sore point on his neck. “You really do bite, huh?”

Fushimi lowered his eyelids. He’d fixed his pants but not bothered to cover his bare torso, and Yata felt a certain appreciation – not just for the view, but also for the fact that he didn’t have to be half-naked on his own right after they’d got each other off. “You didn’t seem to mind,” he murmured.

_Fuck._ That tone and gaze combination were still as dangerous as ever. In his relaxed state, though, Yata found himself going heavy lidded in response, grin widening into a smirk. “Didn’t say I did.”

That seemed to click; at least, he instinctively thought they had a moment of understanding with the way something shifted in the gaze that met his. Then Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a soft, amused huff. “We should clean up.”

“Right.” It wasn’t too jarring to break out of that mood. And his skin felt gross, so yeah, he definitely wanted to clean it. Yata shrugged off the weariness that had started to weigh on him with his orgasm. “I’ll shower first.”

“You’re not a very good host.”

“Screw you – I’m the one with your jizz on my back. You can fucking wait.”

“You didn’t seem to mind at the time…”

“That was in the moment, dumbass!”

It wasn’t so bad, Yata figured, bantering lightly with Fushimi as he grabbed his clothes. Things weren’t awkward or anything, even after they’d fucked. He felt sorta optimistic about the situation – satisfied with the way things had been left with that amazing orgasm out of the way. Now they’d done it, so that was that.

_Maybe now things will cool off between us for a while, huh?_


	12. Chapter 12

If anything, things were hotter than ever between them.

It hadn't started that way – in the immediate aftermath of their impulsive “session” against the kitchen counter, the period of satiation had felt almost invigorating. They'd flown out and found another charging point before going to bed even, and things felt refreshingly comfortable between them. No awkwardness or anything. Even Fushimi's usual biting remarks felt softened up by the mutual orgasms somehow; either he'd loosened up and become less of a dick or Yata had relaxed enough to let it roll off his back more easily.

Come to think of it, though, he'd started getting used to them even before they'd blown off all that tension. Fushimi wouldn't be _Fushimi_ if he wasn't being a pessimistic asshole, and to be honest... Yata didn't mind it any more. Sometimes it was even funny.

Either way, he'd been in a great mood when he'd flopped down onto his bed and had passed out almost immediately, sleeping soundly and feeling thoroughly pleased with himself.

... Until he'd woken the next morning with another raging hard-on and the memory of his dream-self vigorously riding dream-Fushimi still vivid in his mind. For a moment as he lay there, blinking owlishly at the ceiling, he was sure that he could _feel_ the thick length pulsing within him – and the mental image of Fushimi's flushed, desperate face had his own cock twitching with interest.

_Shit._

That was the first time in years that he'd jerked himself off before getting out of bed, and there was no holding the fantasies back as he did. The imagined sensation of Fushimi squirming beneath and within him as he released brought Yata to orgasm, and even as he breathed heavily in the wake of it, he could still feel the underlying desire.

It wasn't enough. Not after last night.

Fushimi had been in the shower when Yata emerged warily from the room, which was kinda suspicious; they'd done that last night already, so there was no reason to do it again, other than... yeah. Another mental image to add to the growing collection. But, frustratingly, there wasn't even a trace of guilt on Fushimi's face when he came out.

Not that Yata had really been looking at his face - at least, not at first. He'd come out shirtless with a towel around his neck and stray droplets of water sliding down along his pale, defined collarbone. It was... distracting.

Once he'd managed to peel his eyes from that tantalizing line of moisture and up to meet Fushimi's gaze, he'd gotten a smirk and a lidded gaze for his trouble. “Where are you looking, Misaki?”

The drawling tone had brought him right back to last night, when that name had been mumbled breathily against his skin, and Yata could feel prickling heat rising right up the back of his neck. “Where the fuck do you think?” he'd managed to snark back, pulling a scowl against the embarrassment, and retreated into the bathroom so he could slam the door shut against Fushimi's amused huff.

No doubt about it: last night had made everything several hundred times more intense between them. It was like a floodgate had been opened or something.

Honestly, he should've known. _Goddamnit..._

It only got worse throughout the day. As hard as Yata tried to ignore it and play it cool, he could feel it every time Fushimi's gaze was on him; every time they so much as brushed up against each other; every time their eyes met. There was a kind of building energy that he couldn't deny. Last night had kicked things into motion between them, and now that they'd picked up that momentum, there was probably no stopping it.

He wasn't even sure if he wanted to – hell, it had felt great and they more or less understood each other, so why not kick it up a notch? But the pace and intensity bugged him. Things were moving really fast all of us a sudden, and he wasn't sure he trusted himself not to make stupid decisions in the heat of the moment.

Fucking Fushimi in the first place was probably a stupid decision actually, but that bridge was already crossed, and he was heading straight for 'don't give a shit' territory at an alarming speed.

It was clear again that day, allowing them to pick up another charge for the moonstone, and as the sun set and the moon rose, one of the contributing factors behind that furiously mounting tension became clear.

That night was the full moon.

Yata could feel the familiar surge in his blood before it was even visible in the sky; honestly, if he hadn't been so fixated on Fushimi, he'd have noticed way before. All of his senses were heightened with the influx of energy and _power_. He could feel it buzzing beneath his skin like electricity, intoxicating and fluid.

On this particular night, it always felt like he could do anything. No limits.

Glancing up over his dinner at Fushimi, who sat across the table frowning at his laptop, Yata was struck by the sudden thought that sex during the full moon would be fucking _amazing_.

It was probably the helpless little rush of lustful anticipation that had Fushimi glancing up at him, one slender eyebrow raising in inquiry. “What?”

Yata jerked his gaze back down to his meal, frowning as he forcefully repressed the thought and reaction. “Nothing!” he responded, voice harsher than he'd intended, and hastily began to shovel down his food.

He could feel Fushimi's eyes on him, but aside from what sounded like an impatient sigh, there was no comment.

The moonlight felt like a physical touch against his bare skin when they flew out; a seductive caress, as if to entice him into giving in to the flurry of confusing urges that flooded his body. It was almost overwhelming, and Yata had to close his eyes against the rush a few times during the flight.

He'd more or less adjusted to it – didn't have much of a choice, since it had always been like that – but the light of the full moon always brought out feelings he had trouble processing. It made him feel like there was too much power in his body for his puny human soul to manage. Every little whim and desire felt like a demand; his base instincts couldn't understand why his brain didn't want him to indulge everything. _You can do whatever you want,_ they seemed to whisper. _Anything could be yours if you want it. Do it... take it..._

Shutting his eyes again, Yata breathed out slowly. _No sleep tonight, huh?_

It was normal. Too much adrenaline. Maybe Fushimi would be cool with hunting down more charging points – or even just circling the city. Anything, really. It usually helped to fly during the full moon; he could expend some of that excess energy, reducing the urges back to a kind of dull longing at the back of his head.

Then again, being around Fushimi was way more likely to _excite_ longing than dull it...

That thought had barely occurred to him when they reached their target; even before landing, he could feel the strengthened flow of moonlight and just about fumbled and crashed before recovering his equilibrium. His veins seemed to sing, vibrating under his flesh in response to that brilliant, blinding glow.

“Are you going to be able to manage?” Fushimi's voice cut into that pleasant haze drily. When Yata turned his head, he got another raised eyebrow. “This is going to be a pain if you end up spacing out like that.”

That was enough to bring sharp clarity back to the front of his mind. Yata scowled back. “It's not _that_ bad, c'mon.”

A second eyebrow joined the first. “If you say so.” Still, Fushimi reached into his pocket to draw out the sunstone.

It was like a moment from some cheesy ass movie; everything seemed to slow and focus intently on that one motion. Yata found his eyes drawn to those slender, dexterous fingers as they dove into the fabric and emerged, delicately lifting the stone free before curling and turning deftly as they lifted and opened to the moonlight.

Those fingers had been on him last night, holding his hips, undoing his fly, squeezing and stroking his balls and cock...

“Fuck,” Yata muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth as he forcefully turned his gaze aside. The abrupt and unexpected surge of arousal had caught him off guard, nearly taking his breath away with its ferocity.

Fushimi made a soft, amused noise. "I'm fine with it if you are," he drawled.

That was way more tempting than it should've been; Yata swallowed back the little burst of anticipation. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, deliberately moving to the other side of the roof – a high rise with a spectacular view that he could barely focus on - and slumping down to a seat against the low wall. “Bite me.”

“I already covered that last night.”

The reminder had him swallowing again hard, and he had to physically restrain himself from reaching up to brush his fingers over the mark. It was stark against his skin, though he'd been able to cover it up no problem with a T-shirt.

He'd fucking liked it when Fushimi had done it, though. A lot. More than he would've expected.

“Well,” Fushimi drawled, moving to sit a short ways from him, “I don't mind repeating it if that's what you want.”

Tempting. Seriously tempting. Yata sucked in a breath, letting it out in a sharp rush and deliberately not turning his head. He could already picture Fushimi's face clearly, eyes dark and lidded with his thin lips curled in a smirk, and he thought he might lose it if he saw the real thing.

_I fucking want him so bad..._ He wasn't even sure why he was holding back, other than to make sure they got the charge done first. Last night he'd let go of his inhibitions and it had been incredible. But still... there was something...

The sharp click of Fushimi's tongue cut into that thought. “Seriously? Even after last night...” The irritation in that soft mumble was a stark contrast to the earlier teasing. “Are you doing this on purpose? Even I have limits, you know.”

“Huh?” At that, Yata was startled enough to turn and stare at him, perplexed. “The hell are you talking about?”

Fushimi was frowning, although it wasn't directed at Yata; his gaze was pointed in front of him, past the hand still holding the charging stone up. “In case you've forgotten, you're not the only one impacted when you let your emotions run wild,” he muttered. “Do you do this all the time? Building things up to a fever pitch and then slamming on the brakes? I can't see how anyone would find it entertaining, but if you have some sort of masochistic tendencies...”

“What the fuck?” Yata cut him off quickly, feeling heat rising fast across his face. “I’m not a masochist, goddamnit!” The little rush of gratification he’d gotten from the sting of that bite came back to him, but he hastily shoved it back down, moving on quickly. “Anyway, it's not like I can control it! Emotions just... y'know... they just happen!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, frown deepening. When he spoke again, it was in an even lower mumble, almost too quiet to hear. “I wouldn't know.”

Yata blinked, caught off guard by that admission. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something about Fushimi’s tone and posture and expression tugged at him. He felt a little ache in his chest, and had to swallow before speaking again. “Wait... so... you don't have emotions, or...?”

“Are you being stupid on purpose?” The insult came with a snort, but the cutting tone that usually would’ve come with it was absent. “Of course I have them. But they’re not like yours are.” Another click of Fushimi's tongue followed; he tipped his head back and turned his gaze toward the sky. “I’ve never met anyone with emotions like yours. It’s like you take them to the edge of what they're capable of, and then keep pushing. It's excessive. And annoying. Especially at times like this.” Drawing in an audible breath, he added with obvious reluctance, “I don't... exactly dislike it.” As if irritated by that moment of honesty, he immediately clicked his tongue again and followed up with, “But seriously, you restrain yourself at the most inconvenient times. Doesn't it bother you?”

“Ah... oh.” The new information had Yata staring again, too stunned to think of an immediate response.   
“Sorry...”

He knew it – of course he fucking knew it. That was a large part of what he'd been working on, after all. He was pretty damn aware that he was overly emotional, overly energetic, overly obnoxious and all the rest. He was really trying to learn restraint. And he was getting a hell of a lot better at not pushing things on other people. He was learning to understand others a bit more, and to not go with the knee-jerk reactions so much.

But yeah, emotions... They were always running wild, no matter what he did. He could control what he did about them, but controlling the feelings...

Probably impossible.

Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a short sigh. “You’re apologizing for the wrong thing,” he said drily, and then tilted his head to the side, opening his eyes slowly to meet Yata's gaze. “The emotions aren't bad – if nothing else, they're proof that you're honest with yourself." A tiny, sardonic-looking smile spread on his lips. “Most of the time, anyway. It's the times when you aren't that are annoying. What makes you think it's a good idea to hold back when you've already taken things that far?”

_'The emotions aren't bad.'_ Somehow, that seemed to resonate with something deep within him. Yata felt an ache rise at the back of his throat – the beginnings of an old hurt that had started when he was very young and amplified over the years. Kusanagi had said the same thing to him: that his emotions weren't bad, he just needed to learn restraint over his actions. But Kusanagi wasn't in his head and couldn't feel what Yata felt. So how would he know if those feelings were good or bad? Maybe they were abnormal. Maybe he was a freak.

Maybe his mom had thought the same, back then...

_'I don't... exactly dislike it.’_

And then there was that.

Fushimi was inside his head, feeling everything Yata felt... and he still said it.

It felt like too much. Yata dipped his head, the ache intensifying as an accompanying sting snuck in behind his eyes and caused his vision to blur. “Asshole,” he muttered, unable to keep the emotion from choking his voice and finding it hard to care. “Can't even say something nice without bitching, huh?”

There was a moment of sharp silence from beside him; when Yata gathered himself enough to look up, Fushimi was studying him with that vaguely bewildered look that he remembered from the café. It was touchingly unguarded, a perfect counterpart to the emotions raging within Yata’s chest. For that brief instant, he found his breath catching in his throat, mesmerized.

_He’s really something, huh?_

Once again, as soon as their eyes met, Fushimi blinked rapidly and looked away, all traces of the earlier vulnerability fading. “I didn't do it on purpose,” he mumbled, lips turning down in a frown again.

In the wake of that unguarded moment, the petulant response had Yata grinning again, a huff of a laugh escaping him helplessly. _Not honest at all._ “What, saying something nice or bitching?”

“Shut up,” Fushimi muttered back, sounding irritated.

“Yeah, yeah.” It was easier to let it go with the catharsis that seemed to spread across his chest and up through his head, clearing the air within him. Yata leaned his head back against the wall and breathed in deeply, allowing a comfortable silence to spread between them again.

He felt... light. _Happy_. Part of it was probably the moonlight amplifying everything, causing his nerves to sing with pleasure and his emotions to rise to intoxicating levels, but he didn't really care. He could’ve sat there on that cold hard roof for hours, if it meant feeling like this.

Because of that, it felt like almost no time at all had passed when he felt the little warning quiver in the sunstone that indicated it had nearly finished its charge. _Already, huh?_ Without thinking, he shifted closer to Fushimi, reaching out to brush a finger over it. “This guy’s almost done, I think.”

“That was fast,” Fushimi murmured in response.

So it wasn't just him. “Yeah, probably the full moon.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

The answer was so flippant that Yata looked up, fully intending to snark back, and found the words dying on his tongue before they could quite make it out.

Fushimi was close, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with him, and he was gazing down at Yata intently, as if waiting for something. With the light of the full moon illuminating him, his pale skin seemed stark and his hair cast from shadow. His lids were low over his eyes again, but he wasn't smirking. Still, Yata couldn't help but trace the outline of those thin lips with his eyes, drawn by an impulse he couldn't fully control. The slender line of Fushimi's neck and the beginning of his collarbone were visible against the fabric of his shirt.

He was beautiful. Yata's throat felt dry just from _looking_ , and his fingers itched. He could feel the phantom sensation of Fushimi’s face and hair beneath them, and it stopped his breath, chest constricting with sudden, almost overwhelming longing.

Fushimi drew in a breath, seeming unsteady. “Misaki,” he mumbled, drawing the name out again in a way that made Yata shudder involuntarily, “I told you before, I have limits. If you're going to pull back now...”

Something about that tone – maybe it was a hint of desperation – pushed Yata over the edge he'd been hovering around. “I got it,” he responded roughly and leaned in closer, giving in to the wild urges flooding his brain. “Not gonna.”

He felt the tremor in Fushimi's body as they came into contact, and couldn't be sure if he'd surged up or Fushimi had surged down. Maybe both. They met in the middle regardless, heads tilting to allow their mouths to meet hungrily.

They hadn't done this yesterday; somehow it was a shock to realize that they’d fucked without bothering to kiss first, but things had been kinda crazy at the time. Now, the initial contact was an overwhelmingly sweet blend of eager and awkward – a moment of stillness as they learned how they fit together before breaking just slightly. The damp heat of their mingled breath hung in the bare inch between them for just an instant before they reconnected, mouths moving to form the shape of the kiss.

The moonlight surging through Yata’s veins was just a pale echo of the pulsing in his chest at the contact. He couldn’t believe how incredible it felt to have Fushimi’s lips against his. It was crazy – Fushimi’s hand had been on his dick, and he’d had Fushimi’s come on his back, but it was _this_ contact that felt more intimate and made his heart swell uncontrollably. Just the simple act of kissing, even without tongue.

‘Without tongue’ didn’t last long; neither of them was feeling particularly patient. Egged on by the seductive counterpart of the moon working its magic and the surge of emotion that came with the kiss, Yata made the first move, parting his lips just enough to allow his tongue room to slide out along the line of Fushimi’s mouth.

The response was immediate and satisfying; Fushimi made a soft, helpless-sounding noise and opened his mouth, the slick pressure of his tongue meeting Yata’s with matching enthusiasm. They fumbled with that for only a few seconds, adjusting to each other’s motions and momentum, breaking apart and coming back together with increasing urgency. Their breath was already growing frenzied and the contact between them gained more pressure as that sense of desperate desire intensified.

It had been ages since Yata had felt this: the hot, wet inside of someone else’s mouth under his tongue, responding eagerly to him. It was so _good_. And it was the full moon, and it was _Fushimi…_

He was already losing himself, body and mind drowning in want as the pleasurable contact continued, when the sudden trilling of the sunstone broke in through that haze, effectively shattering the mood.

_Oh, right… that…_

Yata pulled back with effort, forcing himself not to lean back in when Fushimi chased his lips. “Stone,” he managed to mumble, mouth feeling swollen and tender as he formed the word. His face and body felt warm, and there was a pleasurable, throbbing ache between his legs.

Fushimi stared back at him with incomprehension for a moment, eyes dark with lust behind the fog that had spread unevenly on his glasses. His face was flushed appealingly, lips plush from the force of the kiss, and looking at him made Yata’s heart ache, desire nearly overpowering everything else.

He was on the verge of deciding ‘fuck it’ and leaning back in when Fushimi’s gaze cleared. He clicked his tongue softly. “Again, huh?”

Right, that had happened last night too, hadn’t it? Yata felt a rueful smile spreading on his lips, a small trickle of clarity edging in through the haze over his thoughts. “Least it wasn’t before we fucking kissed this time.”

“That’s one point in its favor, I guess.” Fushimi shifted as he moved to put the stone in his pocket, forcing them to separate further.

The extra space brought another cold wave of clarity into the mix. Yata turned his head and leaned it back against the wall, shutting his eyes momentarily to absorb what had just happened. Maybe it was the full moon, but he felt the same thing as he had after the previous night: a complete lack of regret, and on top of that, satisfaction.

On top of that... he wanted _more_.

That thought had barely struck him, along with the full weight of the certainty and urgency behind it, when Fushimi let out a small huff beside him, sounding amused. “Should we go back?”

No question about whether they were taking this further; it was obvious at that point. Yata found himself grinning before he even turned to meet Fushimi’s eyes, his own going lidded without him even thinking about it, body tingling with the moonlight-enhanced anticipation. He felt that confidence and desire within him increase tenfold when met with the small, promising smile on Fushimi’s face and the intensity of his responding gaze. “You bet your ass we will!”

The flight back to his apartment was mostly a blur – a rush of exhilaration and mounting excitement. By the time they made it there, Yata was keyed up enough to grab Fushimi roughly by the arms before the door had shut completely behind them, leaning up to boldly snag another kiss.

It was fervently returned, a small pleased hum vibrating against his lips. They had to break apart briefly so Yata could kick off his shoes, but came back together open-mouthed and hungry as they stumbled inside. Fushimi’s shirt vanished somewhere in the process of backing towards Yata’s room, and Yata fumbled with the waistband of his shorts while trying to keep up the kiss. His back hit the wall next to his bedroom door by mistake just as they dropped to his ankles, but they didn’t bother to correct themselves immediately, pressing together instead.

Fushimi’s skin was warm beneath his hands, the firm reality of his half-naked body nearly setting Yata on fire internally. It felt just as incredible as he’d imagined: the pressure and friction of bare flesh against his own, the light touch of slender fingers over his sides and the small of his back, the flex of back and shoulder muscles under the pads of his own fingers... And of course, the unmistakable press of Fushimi’s hard, clothed erection grinding against his hip. He thrust forward mindlessly and caught friction from Fushimi’s leg against his own aching cock, tearing a moan from his throat as sensation washed over him.

So. Fucking. _Good_.

They broke apart again – reluctantly – to readjust, breathing heavily, fingers clenching hard against each other’s bodies. Yata had to restrain himself forcefully from chasing his orgasm right then and there. He didn’t want to come until Fushimi was inside him; it was gonna be fucking amazing after all this teasing, and if he blew it beforehand it wouldn’t be the same. But damn, he felt ready to lose it, gazing at Fushimi’s flushed face and catching the desperate gleam in his eyes behind his skewed glasses. He was so turned on it hurt.

In a good way, though – knowing what was coming made all the difference.

Yata could feel the breathless grin spreading on his face even as the answering smirk on Fushimi’s started; on a whim, he freed a hand to reach up and slide the glasses off carefully. “These real or illusion?”

Fushimi squinted at him briefly, then tipped his head, materializing a new set. “Those ones are real.”

The laugh that bubbled up in response was involuntary. “You fucking dick. Take ‘em off.”

“No.” Fushimi leaned in to swallow his protest with an insistent kiss; when they broke apart again, it was only by inches. “I want to see everything,” he murmured, sliding a hand from Yata’s back to reach up and take the real set of glasses from him. “Show me all of your reactions, Misaki.”

Those words seemed to burn within him; Yata felt a little shiver of arousal work its way through his body in immediate response. “Same to you,” he responded, voice coming out rough and throaty. The hand he’d left braced on Fushimi’s bare upper arm clenched hard enough to bruise; he had the feverish thought that he wanted to leave a mark right _there_ , right in this moment.

Fushimi made another of those low, pleased noises in response, leaning in to meet Yata halfway in another urgent kiss. They were becoming more familiar with each other’s bodies already, mouths connecting with ease as they pressed into each other. Yata reached down to fumble with the waistband of Fushimi’s pants before he could forget the end goal again. “These… these are… real, right?” he managed to mumble in between heated kisses.

“Mm,” was Fushimi’s half-hearted positive response – barely a thrum against Yata’s lips. He reached down to help with his free hand as Yata got the fastenings undone and tugged the clothing down off his hips.

He was expecting more fabric beneath, so it caught him off-guard when Fushimi’s cock sprang free as his pants were lowered, flushed and fully hard against the thatch of dark hair around it. Yata’s skin prickled at the sight, a mingling of surprise and arousal, and he couldn’t help but stare for a moment, pausing the flow of heated kisses. “Wait… you… you don’t wear any…?”

Fushimi sighed, kicking his pants off as he leaned in to mouth the corner of Yata’s jaw instead. “I do,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin, breath hot and enticing. One of his legs wormed between Yata’s, creating more of that delicious friction from before. “They’re just not real.”

“Hah…” The word came out breathless; Yata instinctively tilted his head to allow for more of that pleasant touch, grinding back against Fushimi with enthusiasm. He slid his hands around to run them over the small of Fushimi’s back and down along the fleshy curve of his ass, squeezing hard and reveling in the sharp exhalation against his jaw. “Do you just… ah, fuck” – Fushimi’s tongue ran along the length of his neck, hot and slick and purposeful – “do you just get a uniform of… mm… pants and boots… or something?”

He felt the reverberation of laughter against his skin. “Something like that,” Fushimi murmured, lifting his face again to capture Yata’s lips – a gesture that Yata enthusiastically responded to.

They disengaged after only a moment or so more, reaching the limits of where they could extend the heated foreplay before passing the tipping point that would lead to an inevitable climax. Not that Yata would’ve been entirely _opposed_ to Fushimi fucking him up against his apartment wall, noise complaints from his neighbors aside, but it was going to be more comfortable in his bedroom, and that was where his lube and condoms were, so… “Bed?”

“Yeah.”

They had to separate at least a bit to get away from the wall and into the room, so Yata took the opportunity to slide his underwear down past his hips as Fushimi set his glasses down on the bedside table, tugging the drawer open as he did to expose the contents. He didn’t immediately grab for anything inside, instead opting to hastily return to the kiss – like he was worried the opportunity would be snatched away if he didn’t keep up contact.

_As if I’d stop at this point._ Yata’s body was taut with arousal and he could still feel the moonlight surging around in his veins. It felt like he’d fly apart if they didn’t fuck now.

With that thought in mind, he let himself fall back onto the bed, tugging Fushimi along with him and eliciting a startled ‘oof’ as they collided. “So impatient,” Fushimi muttered, clicking his tongue – but he was smiling still, eyes catching the pale light streaming in through the window as they shifted into a better position and he could brace himself above Yata.

He was fucking stunning. For a moment, Yata almost couldn’t breathe, captivated by the sight of that beautiful face and the expanse of pale skin exposed beyond it. He reached out almost tentatively to brush his fingers along the line of Fushimi’s cheekbone and then down, tracing the shape of his jaw and catching on the rough evidence of closely shaved stubble.

It was fascinating to watch Fushimi’s eyes close briefly, hear the audible shudder in his intake of breath in response to the touch. “Misaki,” he murmured, opening his eyes only a fraction to offer back one of those heated looks.

His blood felt like it was boiling. Yata swallowed hard, fingers trembling, and lowered his hand to brace it on Fushimi’s shoulder as he hooked his legs loosely around those slim hips. It didn’t quite bring their erections into contact, but he could feel the heat gathering fast in the space between them, and his anticipation rose to a fever pitch.

“Hm.” Fushimi leaned forward, almost enough to bring their faces together again, a tiny smirk curling on his lips. “Do you want me to fuck you, Misaki?”

_Isn’t that obvious?_ Still, the question was enough to send a little buzz of excitement through him. “… You already know the answer to that, huh?”

He got back a little hum of acknowledgement, but Fushimi didn’t budge. “I want to hear you say it.”

_Seriously…_ Well, he was past the point of any embarrassment. Yata returned the smirk, letting his eyes go to half-mast. “I want you to fuck me,” he responded, keeping his voice low and throaty – and giving Fushimi’s shoulder a little squeeze for good measure. At the last minute, he impulsively added in a drawn-out tone, “ _Saruhiko_.”

The full-body shudder he got in response was thoroughly satisfying. Fushimi’s eyes seemed to soften and grow dark with lust, and then he was leaning down, closing the distance between them again with a desperate kiss.

The shift in position brought their dicks into contact briefly – just a light brush, but it felt like a jolt considering how hypersensitive Yata was feeling already. He moaned a little against Fushimi’s lips and felt the answering thrum almost immediately.

Then Fushimi was pulling back again, with obvious reluctance. He sat back on his heels to free his hands and reached into Yata’s drawer, retrieving the half-empty bottle of lube and a string of condoms. Setting the bottle down first, he separated one packet and tore it open. As Yata watched hungrily, he rolled the condom deftly over his flushed erection before retrieving the bottle and dribbling a generous amount of lube onto his fingers.

Their eyes met. “Ready?” Fushimi murmured, dropping his fingers to the space just behind Yata’s balls and massaging lightly.

The proximity to where he really wanted to be touched was almost maddening. Yata squirmed, drawing in a breath. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

“If you say so.” The questing finger slid back, finding the puckered hole at the base of Yata’s ass and dipping inside.

_Fuck_ , there it was. Yata let out the breath shakily. The initial sting was so damn gratifying somehow. He spread his knees further to allow better access, heels still hooked together behind Fushimi’s back.

Taking the cue, Fushimi added a second finger, pressing both all the way inside and back out before scissoring them on the next thrust. Yata sucked in another breath through his teeth, adjusting. It stung a bit more, but not unbearably so.

“You’re tight,” Fushimi observed, withdrawing his fingers after a few more strokes. “I guess you really haven’t done it in a while, huh?”

Yata scowled up at his lazily smirking face. “Thanks for the reminder, asshole.” The breath left his lungs again immediately after he’d gotten the response out as Fushimi pushed three fingers up inside him. More out of shock and pleasure than pain, though there was some of that.

The friction felt _damn_ good – it had been way too long.

“Interesting choice of insult,” Fushimi drawled, “considering the situation.” When Yata offered him a half-hearted glare, he lowered his lids, smirk widening as his fingers flexed enticingly. “Want me to take it easy on you?”

_Oh, fuck no._ Yata grinned back, showing teeth. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I wonder about that…” Fushimi bent his fingers, pressing them in as far as they’d go, his eyes intent despite the lazy expression. The questing struck that familiar sweet spot, sending a jolt of throbbing pleasure up Yata’s spine, and he couldn’t help but arch his back, letting out an involuntary moan as his body stiffened. “You’d lose your chance to finally get laid if you did.”

Yata shot him a disgruntled look, too drunk on the heady shot of pleasure to be properly angry. “Fuck you.”

“Mm.” Fushimi pulled his fingers back, pouring more lube onto his hand and swiftly coating his dick. “Another time, maybe,” he murmured, raising Yata’s ass into his lap and positioning himself.

The unexpected innuendo brought out another little spike of surprised arousal – despite his preference, yeah, sometimes he _did_ like to be the one doing the fucking – but it was quickly overwhelmed by sensation as Fushimi pushed forward. His cock penetrated the ring of resistance slowly, allowing for the initial sting to pass as Yata clenched his teeth and made an effort to relax his tense body. Fushimi was thick and hard, and it _had_ been a while, but the pain felt deeply satisfying when it came with that slick glide deep inside him. Yata let out his breath slowly, taking it all in. He could come right then and there if he reached down and gave his cock a tug or two. It was that good.

The sting was already subsiding by the time Fushimi buried himself to the hilt. He made a low noise, not quite a moan, and reached under Yata’s legs to grip his hips with both hands, bending forward so he was nearly draped over Yata’s body. His face was flushed with pleasure, lips parted sensuously and pupils blown wide when their eyes met. “You feel so good,” he mumbled, tone unsteady. “So good, Misaki…”

“Fuck.” That voice was gonna be his undoing. Yata’s cock gave a little twinge of pleasure, and he growled under his breath, too aroused to be patient. “ _Move_ , goddamnit – fuck me – come _on_ – ”

Fushimi didn’t seem to require any more invitation than that; his fingers tightened almost painfully just before he pulled out and pushed back in languidly, drawing moans from both of them with the pleasurable friction. With another throaty noise that was almost a match for Yata’s growl, he snapped his hips back and forward again, beginning to thrust in earnest.

That was it. Yata didn’t bother to try and hold in his voice, hands clenching into fists against the bed and heels pressing into Fushimi’s upper back as he was fucked the way he’d been craving. As promised, Fushimi wasn’t going easy on him, and the unrestrained pace was only matched in pleasure by the depth of the penetration each time. It was like he knew exactly how Yata liked it best, filling him completely without brushing his sweet spot for the early spike of pleasure. Drawing it out; making the sensation last as long as possible, until they both couldn’t stand it anymore.

_The fucking best…_ Fragmented as his thoughts had become, that one still managed to float to the front of Yata’s mind, repeating over and over as he lost himself in sensation.

All too quickly, that point of no return approached; Yata could feel the tension of impending orgasm mounting fast in his groin and managed to gasp out a rough, “Coming!” between helpless gasps.

Fushimi let out a low whimper, expression almost frenzied, but he tilted Yata’s hips further and changed his angle, thrusting a couple times more before…

Sparks seemed to fly at the corners of Yata’s vision as that telltale spike of pleasure so sweet it bordered on pain wracked through him; without warning, his body was stiffening and he was coming hard, the sensation of release pulsating through him in heady waves as he cried out and arched against the mattress.

He was still in the throes of it when he felt Fushimi tense and shake, cock twitching within Yata’s clenching ass as he let out a long, low moan and came.

The sensation drew another violent, pleasurable shudder from Yata’s body, and then he slumped back against the bed, breathing hard. Moonlight bathed the side of his face, amplifying the satiation from his recent orgasm and revitalizing him, even as Fushimi’s weight fell over him, bending Yata’s body without bothering to withdraw his cock just yet. His nose nuzzled the underside of Yata’s jaw, a low noise escaping him as he relaxed.

_Damn…_ Yata took in a breath and blew it out slowly, still a little stunned. That was fucking _amazing_. He’d never had sex like that before. He raised his hands almost tentatively and ran them through Fushimi’s hair, unsure what else to do in the moment. His brain hadn’t quite pulled itself together yet, but he felt a sudden need to _touch_ somehow, establishing a softer connection.

Fushimi let out a little hum, and Yata felt it as his lips spread in a smirk. “Don’t relax too much,” he murmured, and lifted his head just enough to bring it above Yata’s again. “We’re just getting started, Misaki.”

Yata blinked, a little taken aback. The expression that met his was soft and lazy, but it had a definite edge of promise to it. His heart did a little jump in his chest at the sight, skin prickling. _Another round?_ It wasn’t unappealing, despite his post-orgasm lethargy. He had a lot of energy, and there _was_ a full moon. Tired as it was, he could feel his body starting to take interest again, too. “Yeah, okay, but I’m gonna need a few – ”

“You know,” Fushimi cut him off, voice drawling out, “demons have a certain amount of control over the energy we take in. Since it’s sustenance for us, it’s smarter to store any excess for emergencies. Among other things.” He leaned in even further, lips brushing Yata’s as he spoke again. “And one of the benefits of a contract is…”

That sentence was left hanging as he pressed in with an unexpected kiss, insistent and fierce. Caught up in the mood, Yata responded automatically – and then gasped against Fushimi’s mouth as he felt energy flood his body, faster and wilder than the moon’s light. His dick, which had softened to about half-mast, began to stiffen with anticipation. Within him, Fushimi’s cock stirred as well, growing hard.

_What…?_

“… being able to share that energy,” Fushimi continued, voice growing low and just a bit breathless, “in creative ways.” He shut his eyes as if savoring the moment, shifting against and inside Yata.

The sensation of being filled again so soon after orgasm had him arching against the bed, fingers clenching instinctively in Fushimi’s hair and a little whine escaping him as his overly sensitive body was stimulated again. Above him, Fushimi made a soft, appreciative noise and began to thrust again, his pace slow and sensual this time.

It was hard to even think, much less form words; the combination of bliss from his recent orgasm and the influx of arousal and pleasure from their current actions made him feel like he was overloading. “You,” Yata managed to growl out, breathless and desperate, “fucking…”

He was cut off with his own uncontrolled moan as Fushimi drove into his body again, clutching at the dark strands of hair in his hands as he was flooded with sensation. The remaining thoughts fractured and he forgot what he was going to say, heels digging into Fushimi’s back with helpless delight as he lost himself to the pleasure and the dual stimulation of demonic and moon-soaked energy.

Fushimi was in no better shape than he was, flushed and panting with his lips parted appealingly, little noises escaping him as he moved deliciously within Yata. Every little motion they made seemed to drive them both mad; Yata felt wild and untamable, chasing his next orgasm without any shame or restrain, and Fushimi whimpered above him, slim muscles tensing with each thrust.

It was slower but far more intense than the first round, and by the end they muffled their cries into each other’s mouths in a sloppy, fierce kiss, convulsing on the bed together as they came almost in tandem, pushed to the limits of that blinding pleasure.

When the final shudders had passed through his body, Yata felt his arms and legs finally give out, flopping to the side like dead weight as he focused on breathing. His vision was lined with tiny pinpricks of light, and he still wasn’t quite thinking straight.

His body felt fucking _amazing_ , satisfaction extending even to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he was pretty sure he could’ve laid there in mindless bliss for hours.

Fushimi kissed him one last time, heavy and clumsy against his lips, and then pulled back with obvious effort, grunting as he extracted his cock from Yata’s ass with his fingers pinched around the sides to retrieve the condom along with it. “I think this thing is at its limit,” he observed in a weary-sounding mumble, quickly tying it off and tossing it carelessly at Yata’s garbage bin.

That at least gave him something to focus on. Yata managed a tired grin in return. “Yeah, that shit isn’t really made for demons, y’know?”

Fushimi lowered his eyelids, smirking in response. “It’s a good thing you have a lot of them then, isn’t it?” he drawled back, reaching out to brush his fingers down along the line between Yata’s ribs, pausing just before he reached the mess pooled on his abdomen.

The touch wasn’t an innocent one. _Again, huh?_ Yata couldn’t imagine it in that moment, putting his thoroughly spent body through another cycle of that maddening sensation.

… But then again, that was part of the fun, wasn’t it? He couldn’t deny how good it felt. And he’d never tested his body’s limits before in _this_ kind of situation. Even outside of the curiosity, he had to admit that he wanted to experience it – to feel every second of getting all the way to that edge.

The moon’s energy was still passing fiercely through his veins, but more than that, it was the prospect of the challenge – and the pleasure it promised – that had Yata forcing his trembling arms into motion, propping himself up enough to twist and reach into the open drawer for another condom. He returned Fushimi’s smirk as he held it up.

“I’ll buy more tomorrow.”


	13. Chapter 13

He didn’t wake up until past noon the next day, and when he did, his body was sore in places he didn’t even think he’d known about. Yata groaned a little as he transitioned from blissful oblivion to awareness, not quite ready to open his eyes, and tried to shift.

There was something pinning him in place – a warm something. Actually, a warm, _moving_ something. There was a soft, amused hum almost right next to his ear, followed by a low murmur of, “That’s a nice sound.”

Right… That was why his ass felt so goddamn sore.

Not that he was complaining. Yata cracked an eye open partway, taking in the blurred outline of Fushimi’s face on the pillow next to his. “Morning,” he mumbled, feeling a bit more awake.

It was somehow relaxing to wake up like that, squished onto his bed with an attractive lover who’d blown his mind last night with some amazing sex. They’d ended up like that by choice too, not really talking about the logistics after cleaning up and instead just climbing into bed together without even bothering to put shirts on and passing out almost instantly.

Well… _he_ had passed out almost instantly. He wasn’t sure about Fushimi.

_Does that guy even actually sleep?_

He seemed rested enough at least, considering he’d moved on to nibbling Yata’s ear, and his fingers were toying with the waistband of Yata’s underwear. The message was loud and clear.

And… despite how thoroughly they’d taken care of this last night, not at all unwelcome.

Yata allowed himself a small, rueful smile and a quiet huff. “Didn’t you get enough last night?” He shifted a bit, rolling onto his side so that they could face each other fully.

Fushimi offered him a lazy smirk in response. He wasn’t wearing glasses, and that plus his mussed hair made him look a bit different. Still hot as ever, but the new look was more of a lived-in, casual sort that made Yata’s heart start to race for no particular reason. “You’re already hard,” he murmured, taking the move as the permission it was and sliding his hand down to palm the hard lump of Yata’s morning erection through his underwear.

Yata shut his eyes, moaning appreciatively at the pleasurable touch.  “You started it,” he mumbled back. “Anyway, s’not what I asked.”

“It was enough _then_.” Fushimi slid his fingers around and down, tracing the outline of Yata’s balls through the fabric. “But this is now.”

He didn’t have an answer for that, and he was already feeling too good to want to waste time arguing. Yata settled for a gruff, “Right,” and arched forward obligingly into Fushimi’s touch.

They hadn’t quite used up all of his condoms last night, but they’d come close, and he’d even used one of them himself. By the time they had their final round in the shower, he was feeling sore – it had been a long time since his ass had seen any kind of activity, much less multiple rounds in one night – and so he’d fucked Fushimi against the tiled wall instead. Which had been a nice way to finish things off. After being so thoroughly worked over, it felt great to be on the other side of it. And Fushimi’s reactions were just as sexy as when he was on top, so he’d obviously enjoyed it too.

_Hell, everything about last night was great…_

Indulging his preferences so precisely was new actually, now that he thought about it. Yata didn’t really care for the expectation of bottoming for a partner every single time even if he wanted to _most_ of the time, so most of his – short-lived – relationships were with guys who liked to switch. Pretty much all of them were interested in keeping things even in terms of how many times they took on either role, which meant compromise. He was okay with it, and would’ve been fine if that was what Fushimi had wanted, too. But considering how eager he’d been to repeatedly fuck Yata the past night, it didn’t seem to be. And he’d been enthusiastic enough about bottoming in the shower too, so it wasn’t like he had any of those annoying expectations.

Despite being an asshole in a lot of other ways, it seemed like Fushimi was just a really generous lover.

Also a really _eager_ one, seeing as how he’d already parted the front flap on Yata’s underwear and pulled his dick from its confines. Yata let out a low, clipped groan as those clever fingers stroked him, body responding honestly to the pleasant stimulation.

Fuck, he’d had so much of this last night… Should it have been this easy to get him riled up now?

_Who fucking cares._ It felt good, and that was all that mattered in the moment. Letting out a little growl from deep in his throat, Yata surged up to capture Fushimi’s lips. He reached out in the same moment, roughly pulling him in by the hip so that their bodies came into contact. The hard length of Fushimi’s erection brushed his, amplifying his arousal, and he opened his mouth to bring their tongues into play, reveling in the damp heat that resulted.

Fushimi moaned with obvious approval against his mouth, opening his hand to allow their cocks to rub together with more freedom and thrusting into the contact. The damp head of his dick slid against Yata’s abdomen, hot and slick, and Fushimi’s body shuddered in reaction. Encouraged, Yata reached down to join his fingers with Fushimi’s, clumsily forming a makeshift circle around their erections as they moved sinuously against each other in search of that delicious friction.

It was crazy just how compatible their bodies seemed to be. Here they were, just like last night, going with the flow of things and what felt good – and everything seemed to… click into place.

At least this much was easy between them.

He definitely wasn’t dwelling on the complicated things in a moment like this, though. Yata let his mind empty, focusing on the pleasure, and it wasn’t much longer before he was releasing into their joined hands, a little moan on his lips and shuddering sensation rocking through his body. Fushimi followed not long after, trembling and flushed, mumbling Yata’s first name almost like a prayer as their kiss broke.

They lay panting in the aftermath for a few seconds afterwards, and as Yata’s mind and vision started to clear up again, he took the opportunity to study his bedmate.

As he was, Fushimi didn’t look much like a demon; disheveled and sweaty, face still flushed from the early morning exertion and lips swollen from kissing. He could’ve been someone Yata had met at a bar or on a dating site and liked well enough to bring home with him.

Hell, if he had done that… If there was no inconvenient contract and this was just a normal hook-up…

If that had been the case, then… from here, maybe…

A tiny ache was forming in his chest, and he couldn’t quite place where it was coming from. Yata furrowed his eyebrows, frowning a bit as he tried to piece together the source of that confusing feeling. It was like he was right on top of it; if he just reached a bit further…

Fushimi squinted at him then clicked his tongue and pushed himself up on one elbow, materializing a pair of glasses so he could eye Yata skeptically. “Why are you staring like that?” He raised an eyebrow, corners of his lips edging up. “Want another round already?”

Yata snorted. “Yeah, and then we’d never get out of bed. I’ll pass for now.” He shrugged off the earlier thoughts, pushing himself to sit up somewhat gingerly and grimacing as he noticed the sticky mess on the sheets. He was gonna have to change them – again – and if this kept up he’d probably be doing laundry way more often. “I pretty much already missed work, and we wanna try to grab another charge today, right?”

“If you say so,” Fushimi drawled in response, sitting up languidly. “It’s not like I care either way.”

_That’s new._ “Heh. Weren’t you the one who wanted to stay up all night getting this done?” Yata had stood – only a little bit shaky on his feet – with the intention of getting a clean outfit from his drawers, but he turned at that, offering a smirk. “What happened to ‘no excuses’, huh?”

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but something in Fushimi’s expression seemed almost wary. He offered another of those lazy smirks, drawing out his words as usual, but it _felt_ different in a way that Yata couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Sex doesn’t count as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure.” That brought something back to the front of his mind, though. Yata frowned a little, feeling awkward about bringing it up. “Hey… so, you already figured out… y’know… the shit that I like.” He wasn’t sure why it was so damn hard to say ‘being fucked’ when they’d done it so many times the night before, but whatever. “What about you? Don’t you have a preference or – ?”

“Not really.” Fushimi cut him off, his tone flippant as usual. He got up from the bed gracefully, stretching, and Yata was momentarily distracted by the fact that he hadn’t bothered to materialize any underwear. It was… not a bad view. “I’m flexible. Though if you want to talk about preferences…” His smirk widened, eyes going lidded as he picked up on Yata’s lingering gaze. “I’d say, anything that makes it so that you can’t stop thinking about” – there was a pause, almost unnoticeable – “it.”

Yata bit back a shiver, still somehow finding himself transfixed even after being thoroughly satisfied physically. “R-right.” He swallowed, letting that dizzying wave of attraction run its course before adding a bit roughly, “Well, if there’s something you wanna do or whatever, just say so. I can be flexible too, y’know.”

Fushimi hummed, low and amused. “I noticed that last night.”

A vivid memory of being bent over himself with his knees braced on Fushimi’s shoulders as he was penetrated at just the right angle to hit his prostate came rushing back; Yata felt heat rising fast on his shoulders and neck, and quickly turned to yank his drawer open, scowling. “That’s not what I meant, goddamnit!”

“Mmhm.” Fushimi brushed past him, close enough so that they made contact and Yata’s skin prickled pleasantly in reaction. “I’m using the bathroom first.”

Of course he was. “Sure.”

It was still well before sunset when they were ready to head out, and the weather was holding – Yata was kinda hoping that was a sign the rainy season was over. Not only because it mean they’d be able to finish what they were doing more easily, but because tomorrow was –

Oh. Right.

“By the way,” he started, pulling on his shoes, “I forgot to mention, tomorrow's no good for charging.” To Fushimi’s questioning look, he explained, “I gotta be at Homra all day and late into the night. It's the solstice.”

“Seriously?” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “You're just mentioning this now?”

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be around this long, okay? Anyway, I forgot.” Yata shrugged it off. “I got a lot on my mind lately.”

"So I noticed." Fushimi’s tone was dry. “What does your coven do for solstice anyway?”

“Fire ritual.” It was one of the things he looked forward to every year. “We do it out by where my garden is, so I usually head out early to start getting stuff ready and everyone meets me out there. We light the bonfire just as the sun’s going down.”

“The usual, then.” Fushimi let out a short sigh, seeming resigned, and then gave him another of those inscrutable gazes. “We only have four charging points left anyway, so it won’t be much longer after this.”

_Only four..._ He’d been keeping track of the number, but now that he thought about it, that really wasn’t much. Two days and two nights – and then they could null the contract and go their separate ways.

The thought gave him a funny feeling – he wasn’t sure entirely what, but it sat heavy in the pit of his stomach, as if weighing him down. There was something familiar about it, but he couldn't quite place it. Just a general sense of... restlessness? Discomfort? It was confusing. “Right,” he agreed gruffly to cover the moment. “So what’s next, anyway?”

“Two options for now.” Fushimi materialized his laptop, open in front of him. He held it one-handed, manipulating the mousepad with the other. “One would be the point we found yesterday, and the other...” He shot a little sideways glance at Yata. “I'm guessing you know it.”

_Right, that._ He'd almost forgotten about it with everything else that was going on, but there was still that location that was meant to be personal to him. The discomfort he’d felt earlier grew to more of a gnawing sense of unease. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t like he hated the place, exactly... More like he had a mix of both good and bad memories, but a lot of it was more painful to think about than anything. He wasn’t gonna be able to repress that – hell, he couldn’t even hold it back now, just talking about it – which meant he’d be sharing it, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea.

The thought of showing more of his weakness to Fushimi gave him another of those odd feelings. It wasn’t like it had been at the beginning. More like... he was anxious. Not so much about getting that shit aired, or even the invasion of his privacy, but… well…

If he broke it down, what he was _really_ anxious about was having to put this on Fushimi. He hadn’t exactly signed up for it. What the hell was he gonna think if Yata kept dumping his baggage on him?

“I don’t mind, if that's what you’re worried about.” When he shook off his thoughts, Fushimi was giving him a searching look. He glanced away when Yata met his gaze, deliberately focusing on the screen of his laptop as his voice lowered to a mumble. “Either way, we’ll have to do mine tonight.”

_Oh yeah._ That was right, it wasn’t just him – Fushimi had a place that was significant to him in some way too. Yata still wasn’t sure why – if he couldn’t come to this realm without a contract, then how had he formed memories _here_? – but it made sense they’d have to go there next if there were only two moon charging points left. One was gonna be Munakata’s place and they were supposed to do it last, so there wasn’t any more searching or planning to do at all.

_Tonight, then._ The thought gave him a tiny surge of something like excitement. Fushimi had been an enigma from day one, and it was hard as hell to learn to read him, even if Yata thought he’d picked up a thing or two by that point. He was secretive and evasive, and he barely dropped anything about his personal life if he could help it. Yata couldn’t help being curious; if there was something at this place that might give him a clue about what was in Fushimi’s head, he was all for it.

But as far as sun charging points went… Yata tilted his head, frowning a bit as he thought it over.

He wasn’t totally sure what to make of the reaction in front of him; in the first place, he wasn’t great at reading Fushimi’s expressions – and the hunched posture was the same as usual. If he was going purely on that, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

_But…_

Going with his instincts was always best. Yata straightened. “Then we’ll hit up mine today too.” He grinned when Fushimi glanced at him. “Get ’em both out of the way, right?”

He could tell right away it was the right move; for a brief instant, Fushimi’s eyes widened, expression almost charmingly startled. He blinked twice, staring at Yata with something that looked a lot like the bewilderment he’d shown a couple times in the past, and then seemed to recover, looking away again with a frown and clicking his tongue. “Whatever you say.”

_Not honest at all._ Yata was starting to find it cute, in a vaguely frustrating sort of way. He shook his head, still grinning. “Right, let’s go, then!”

It wasn’t far to fly, mainly because it wasn’t all that far from Homra. One of the reasons Yata had picked his current apartment was because it was also pretty close to his coven’s headquarters, so by proxy this place wasn’t a long way to go from where he lived either. They were still completely separate neighborhoods, though, and despite both being residential districts, there was a different feel to them. His current place was close enough to the entertainment district to be generally more adult; kids weren’t playing on the street, and there weren’t any schools or playgrounds in the area. Their destination was more like Jungle’s home turf – or rather, the family housing area that flanked it.

That was why he’d mentioned Jungle being like the place he lived when he was little. Because it was like _this place_.

At the end of one block, there was an apartment complex – only three stories, with about five or so small income housing units on each floor intended mostly for young families and couples. Yata flew right to it without bothering to check any of the other buildings in the area, landing on the roof with confidence and raising his face toward the sun without any surprise as the energy increased in intensity. He retracted his wings immediately and pulled on his shirt, closing his eyes against the wave of nostalgia that struck as he took note of his surroundings and letting that warm light relax him.

_Back here again…_ He really had mixed feelings.

Still, he wasn’t flaking out – as Fushimi landed behind him, he opened his eyes and reached into his pocket, drawing out the moonstone and holding it up to expose it to the familiar, comforting power of the sun beating down on them.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Fushimi spoke. “You lived here, huh?”

“Yeah.” Yata shot him a rueful half-grin. “Kinda thought you’d guess.”

“It doesn’t take much,” Fushimi murmured, meeting his gaze for just long enough to acknowledge it before turning to glance around curiously.

The weather was good and it was after school hours, which meant kids were out playing, gathered mostly on the small playground in front of the elementary school across the street. There were smaller groups of older kids clustered on the sidewalks and in corners of the school grounds, but most of their noise was lost in the unmoderated voices of the younger ones.

The neighborhood was still as active as ever, even if there was obviously no one he’d recognize. Yata felt the familiarity strike him as he followed Fushimi’s gaze, almost dizzying. When he’d lived here it had been on the third floor, so the view out the window was nearly the same as this. It didn’t have to be the same kids outside to feel like deja-vu.

_“Misaki, if you go out, you have to_ promise _me…”_

Yata blinked, shaking his head against the sudden, vivid memory of his mother’s voice. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but she’d been really anxious. When he was a kid, it hadn’t registered, but now… Yeah, he could see how hard it was, trying to give him as much of a normal life as she could without alerting others to his… nature. A tiny lump rose at the back of his throat, the remnants of that nearly forgotten hurt surfacing along with it.

_“Why would you even think about keeping him? The kid is a fr – ”_

_“Don’t you dare say another word!”_

“Damn,” he muttered, reaching up with his free hand to rub the back of his neck. Even now, he wasn’t sure why it was so much easier to remember the painful stuff than all the good moments he’d had here, living with just his mom. Hell, he’d even met Kamamoto here, a friend he’d reconnected with later and relied on to this day. And he sure hadn’t thought much about the bad shit when he was little.

But now somehow, it was only the things he’d brushed off then that stuck with him.

Like that shithead’s voice…

Fushimi stepped up beside him, silent for once in the face of Yata’s fervent emotions. Even his gaze was turned away, as if he had a sense of any scrutiny being unwelcome in the moment. When Yata glanced at him, looking for a distraction, he was standing with a slight hunch, noticeably awkward, but without any indication of annoyance. His expression was placid and even, almost bored, but it was possible to see the keen spark in his eyes as he surveyed their surroundings. Regardless of how he wanted to appear, he was taking everything in.

Maybe this situation wasn’t the most comfortable for him, but he was _there_ – actively engaged and not just physically present. That said something.

Yata couldn’t stop the little surge of appreciation, lips curling up despite his earlier mood, and it was enough to draw Fushimi’s gaze to him, along with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yata shook his head, letting out a wry huff. “Just… I’m glad you’re here. Or something.” Not wanting to leave that assertion hanging on its own, he quickly went on. “I lived here with my mom ’til I was seven. It wasn’t bad or anything, just… I was a kid, y’know?” He reached up to scratch the back of his head, agitated. “First time I brought my wings out, I was like three.” Drawing in a breath, he added, “I didn’t really… get why it was bad. You know how kids are.” Shrugging awkwardly, he pulled another rueful smile. “Mom was always double checking that I wouldn’t do it in public. But she still let me play outside all the time – I think she just wanted me to _feel_ normal, even if I wasn’t.”

Fushimi made a soft hum of acknowledgement. “If you were anything like you are now, she probably just wanted you to use up your energy.”

The unexpectedly pragmatic response startled an amused huff out of him. “Yeah, fuck you too,” Yata responded without any resentment, jabbing out an elbow lightly at the arm closest to him. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You ‘weren’t’, huh?” Fushimi offered him a lazy smile in response. “Does that mean you’re worse now than you were as a seven-year-old?”

“Quit being a prick!” Yata elbowed him again harder, but grinned sharply back all the same. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Fushimi agreed easily. “For the record, I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Asshole.” It was almost a term of endearment by that point. Yata shook his head. “Anyway, in case you’re wondering, mom remarried and we moved somewhere else when I was seven. I got a brother and sister who are a lot younger than me. They’re – y’know – normal. Human.” He shrugged again, finding it a bit harder to keep it casual. “They don’t know about me. Mom never asked, but I just… stopped. Never brought my wings out again, until Homra.”

He paused there, not sure how much he wanted to unload, and a little surprised by how strong the urge to just go ahead with it was. It had to be something about the mood. In a weird way, now that they were at this point, some of that reluctance to burden Fushimi with it had gone. He kinda _wanted_ to share it.

_Maybe if I do, he’ll trust me with his past, too._

That was a good enough motivator right there. “Actually, my real dad lived here too, back then. Like, the three of us lived together. I don’t remember a lot about it.” A face red and contorted with anger and fear popped into his head, mouth moving around that one word. After the first time, his mom had always stopped it partway through.

_Freak._

Yata shut his eyes, swallowing back the little ache. It shouldn’t have affected him after all this time – hell, it hadn’t at the time – and still… “He wanted to get rid of me. Dunno how. I mean, I was registered and all. He hated the wings, though.” He felt his mouth curl into a sneer. “Not being normal really pissed him off or something. Anyway” – he shrugged again, trying to dismiss the inexplicable hurt – “they argued all the time, until one day he stopped showing up. Never saw him again.”

Fushimi didn’t say anything. When Yata opened his eyes again, checking, he found himself being regarded silently, without expression. It was oddly comforting.

Made it easier to continue, too. “After that it was just me and mom. I didn’t mind it. I mean, as a kid you don’t really get it, right? I didn’t figure most of this shit out until I was older.” Another shrug, and as much of a grin as he could summon. “I was, what, four? Obviously no one was more important than my mom.”

“‘Obviously’,” Fushimi repeated slowly, as if to himself. His eyes were strangely distant. He shook his head when Yata shot him a curious look, a slightly sardonic smile on his lips. “Never mind. Go on.”

 “Right.” Shoving down his questions – there was a chance he’d find out later, hopefully – Yata nodded and continued. “So I figured it’d always be like that, just me and her. Then my stepdad showed up.” He couldn’t help the way his mouth quirked at that, not exactly pleasantly.

Not that his stepdad was a bad guy – actually, he was a really _good_ guy, and somehow that had made it worse. Even at six years old, he’d at least gotten a sense that the little world he and his mom had with just the two of them wasn’t as good as what a new husband – a new _family_ – could offer her.

“After they got married and they had my brother, things got weird. Not really bad – like my family’s pretty cool and all – but they’re a _real_ family, all of them related and everything. All of them _normal_.” It was the first time he’d even started to wonder why the hell he was different when everyone else was the same. Yata looked away from Fushimi, frowning down at the street instead. “It started to feel like even though my real dad was an asshole, he mighta had a point. It probably would’ve been better for my mom if she didn’t have me.” He let out another huff, this one humorless, and attempted again to shrug off the residual ache. “At least, it would’ve been easier.”

There was a stark moment of silence between them as those words hung in the air.

Fushimi clicked his tongue sharply, breaking it before there was time to wallow in those feelings. “You know,” he mumbled, meeting Yata’s gaze when he turned, “there’s something I had to learn after the Captain hired me.” His lips quirked, a hint of annoyance reaching his features. “It’s something he’d probably say actually, but it’s still worth thinking about.” The dry tone eased off into something a little more serious as he added, “The easier path isn’t necessarily the best one to take.”

Yata blinked at him, momentarily taken aback. “R-right,” he managed, after a beat.

It wasn’t so much the sentiment – although it was a little jarring to apply it in this context; he’d never really thought of his mom’s feeling in that sense – but the fact that Fushimi had said he’d had to _learn_ it. The similarity to his own struggle in the past years was a little too striking to ignore; he’d come to the same conclusion regarding his own situation, after the weight of all the years he had in front of him had started to feel crushing and oppressive.

_Easier_ would’ve meant still not taking his mom’s calls. Distancing himself from Homra completely. Giving up on going out or looking for connections. Resigning himself to being alone, since everyone he cared about would die again and again before he finally followed. Never bothering to _trust_ , because of how easily it could’ve blown up in his face.

_“I don’t want a goddamn freak for a kid – are you kidding me?”_

He didn’t think there was any part of him that would’ve considered taking that easy path, not for a second.

_Maybe she felt the same way._ There was a sting behind his eyes; Yata blinked a few times to hold it at bay, and then gave up and lifted his free hand to scrub at his face, brushing aside the traitorous moisture. “Heh!” The word came out thick, but he didn’t bother to worry about it, offering a real smile. “I figured that one out too, but thanks for the reminder.”

Fushimi’s lips quirked a little in response, not quite a smile. “I didn’t do anything special.” He turned his gaze, looking a bit awkward about it. “You don’t have to be grateful when all I’m doing is reminding you of things you already know.”

“Yeah, well, still.” Somehow, that little frown made his heart skip a beat. It was sorta cute, maybe. “S’not really about what you said. More like, you listened to me seriously. It helped a lot.” The smile on his face widened. “So just accept the thanks already!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, but finally allowed that tiny smile to overtake him, eyes shutting briefly. “Fine. If it’ll shut you up” – he turned to meet Yata’s gaze again, one eyebrow raised – “you’re welcome.”

Yata shook his head, the grin on his face not slipping. “Jerk.”

The light hum he got in response sounded almost like music to his ears.


	14. Chapter 14

The neighborhood they settled in that evening was completely different from Yata’s childhood home. It was residential and the streets were lined with houses, but that was about as far as the similarities went. The streets were wide and meticulously kept, the houses were large and opulent, and there were no schools or playgrounds in sight. Despite being built closely to one another, the houses seemed to have more sprawl to them; in general, they took up way more _space_.

The house they settled on – the one that Fushimi led him to without hesitation, exactly as Yata had done earlier – was clearly the right one, based on the intensity of the moon’s energy. It was also huge even by the neighborhood’s standards, taking up nearly half of the city block on its own. The roof was flat and lined with a decorative railing, so it was easy to settle on. The house itself had a dull, empty feel to it, though; despite not being able to tell for certain from their position, Yata felt instinctively that nobody lived in it, and hadn’t for quite some time.

_Why, though? Isn’t this a huge waste…_

Fushimi clicked his tongue as if reading Yata’s thoughts, retracting his wings and reaching into his pocket with sharp motions. “She should just sell it already,” he muttered, without meeting Yata’s gaze. “It’s pointless to leave it like this.”

If he thought he was gonna get away with that, he had another think coming. “Who’s ‘she’?”

“The woman who owns it.” Fushimi clicked his tongue again, glancing at Yata with almost unfriendly eyes. “Were you assuming I was going to spill my life story just because you happened to share yours?”

Yata scowled back, more annoyed by the attitude than surprised. “I thought I’d hear you out since you did it for me, but if you’re gonna be a dick, forget it.” Still, there was one piece in what he’d just said… “But I guess since you mentioned it, that means this place is somehow involved in your ‘life story’, huh?”

Fushimi blinked at him, expression settling into a mildly perturbed look – and then abruptly sighed. “Your instincts can be really annoying sometimes,” he murmured, and clicked his tongue again. “Fine. This is the house I lived in when I was growing up.”

That was not the answer he’d expected. Yata stared back, struck dumb for a moment before he could recover. “Wha… ? The place where you – wait. _Here?_ ”

Fushimi shrugged, a tiny and somewhat jerky motion. “Until I was twelve,” he clarified blandly.

“ _Twelve?_ ” On top of everything else, that threw him for even more of a loop – it was so young, but it implied he’d been there so long… Yata shook his head, struggling to make sense of it. “Wait – before that, how the hell…?” He made a frustrated noise, not finding the right words somehow. “ _Here?_ ”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“Fuck you!” Yata shot him a glare. “I mean, in _this_ realm?”

“This house doesn’t exist anywhere else,” Fushimi responded dryly, raising an eyebrow to Yata’s incredulous look. “You don’t know much about demon offspring, I take it?”

“Why the hell would I?”

Fushimi ignored that exasperated protest, continuing as if there had been no interruption. “Most of the time, there aren’t any. It’s impossible for two demons to conceive in the first place.” He paused for a moment, regarding Yata critically. “It’d be too much of a pain to explain why, so just take my word for it that you need at least one human to get anywhere.”

That was a surprising enough fact to forestall most of his earlier annoyance. “Huh.” Yata frowned, letting that soak in, and then the scraps of information he’d been fed pieced together in his head. “Wait, so – does that mean – the woman who owns this place is…?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Technically my mother, yes. I only saw her a few times while I lived here.” He turned his gaze again to fix it on the sunstone in his hand, frowning to himself. “In general, she’d only show up to argue with… that guy… about something or another. I don’t think we ever spoke directly.”

Yata wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information. The situation was so weird that he couldn’t even start to piece together a reaction – and the fact that it had been stated so matter-of-factly was almost jarring to him. “Huh,” he said again, more out of a need to fill the silence than anything. ‘ _That guy’…_ It was an impersonal way to say it, but he’d called his mom ‘the woman’, so… “And your dad was a demon, right?”

Since he was watching so closely already, the subtle darkening of Fushimi’s expression was plain. “That should be obvious.”

“But he lived here with you?”

He got another sharp click of Fushimi’s tongue in response. “Why do you care? It has nothing to do with you.”

The tone was openly hostile, but Yata didn’t feel the usual rush of defensiveness. He furrowed his eyebrows, frowning back. “Why not? I wanna know more about you.” He snorted. “Not like you tell me a lot of things most of the time. Of course I’m curious.”

Fushimi’s frown deepened. He looked about to say something, and then hesitated, seeming to think better of it. “It won’t make a difference,” he mumbled, after a brief silence.

Unrestrained honesty brought the next words to his tongue; Yata didn’t even think twice before letting them out. “I still wanna hear it.” After a beat, he realized he might’ve been pushing too hard, and added with a sudden rush of chagrin, “I mean, if you’re okay with telling me.”

At that, Fushimi let out what sounded like a startled huff of laughter, and finally – _finally_ – turned his gaze to meet Yata’s again. “Obviously I’m not,” he murmured, but the corners of his mouth were turning up almost ruefully even as he spoke. It was hard to place the look in his eyes, even with the light of the moon to help – it was something that might have been resignation or maybe relief, or some odd mix of the two. “But if you really want to know, fine. Just don’t complain when you realize how pointless it is to bring it all up.”

It was more relief than excitement that rushed through him in response; Yata relaxed, letting out a puff of breath, and grinned back. “You didn't bitch about me ‘pointlessly’ bringing _my_ shit up – why would I bitch about yours?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “That's different.”

“Yeah, says who? You?” Yata shook his head. “Anyway, try me.” He braced his hands on his hips, thinking back to his earlier unanswered question. “So did your dad live here in this realm or...?”

“Not really.” Fushimi shrugged his shoulders again, eyeing Yata with his usual bland expression. That edge of wariness was still there, masked behind the indifference. “I think I already told you that demons can’t travel freely to this realm without a contract – and no contract with a regular human would last for twelve years.” He raised his eyebrow at that. “Not everyone's a changeling, after all.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Yata raised his own eyebrow in response. “So what was the deal, then?”

“The exact arrangement? Who knows.” The admission was light, drawled out. “They weren’t exactly all that forthcoming with me. Most of what I know, I figured out for myself. The rest is guesswork.” His eyes darkened again for a moment. “I couldn’t always trust the things that guy said anyway – he had a habit of making things up for the sake of getting a reaction.”

_Lies for the sake of lying, huh?_ Yata frowned, finding a thread of instant animosity within him for Fushimi’s faceless dad. He didn’t like lies in the first place, but at least if there was a good reason, they could be excused. This, though... “He did that to his own kid?”

Fushimi snorted. “After what you told me today, you should know not everyone cares about that, right?”

Yeah, he knew it. Yata shut his eyes briefly against the echo of that word – _‘freak’_ – and the furious face that went with it. Behind them, though, he thought he could picture a small, very young Fushimi staring wide-eyed and trusting at a faceless liar. It brought on a rush of indignation he hadn’t expected. “Fucking assholes,” he growled, opening his eyes again.

Something in Fushimi’s posture and expression seemed to have relaxed marginally. “I could think of worse descriptions,” he drawled, “but I’m not going to argue. Anyway, as closely as I could piece it together, he was initially contracted by someone else looking for revenge on _her_.” That came with another shrug, almost too casual a motion. “I was the punishment.”

The sheer callousness behind that simple fact was stunning; Yata stared, momentarily unable to think of a thing to say. Not only the fact that someone had thought to _do_ it, but that those involved had casually let it slip in front of the kid in question... He couldn’t imagine the cold, indifference it would take. Or maybe cruelty. Both, really.

_The fuck is wrong with these people?_

Into the silence, Fushimi let out a soft, humorless huff of a laugh. “That guy would've been glad to do it. I think he took on way more contracts than he needed to, just for the opportunity to fuck with people. It’s the kind of thing he'd find funny.” Something dull and resigned seemed to settle in his eyes. “It’s kind of infuriating, really – he was probably one of the cleverest and most powerful demons in the Captain’s sector, and _that_ was what he did with it. It’s no wonder someone decided to do something about it in the end.” The spiteful little smirk he offered with that somehow lacked any real force. “I would’ve done it myself if I could've figured out how.”

There was no way Yata could’ve started sorting out the kind of complicated feelings behind that smile – just the idea of that fervent wish for a person to die, especially someone who should've been closer than most people, struck him as a terrible thing to have to live with. He wondered if Fushimi might’ve wished, even a little bit, that he didn't have to feel that way. The thought made his throat ache and something start to burn within him with righteous fury. “I’d punch him for you right now if he was still around!” he offered fiercely.

Fushimi blinked at him, clearly caught off-guard, and then seemed to relax again, releasing a sigh that was far more sincere in its amusement than before. “I feel like you'd take any excuse to punch someone,” he murmured, lips curling up just a tiny bit. “Well, not that I'm complaining.”

Yata grinned back, curling his fingers into a fist and bringing it up in front of his body so he could smack it against his open palm. “Say the fucking word and I’ll beat the shit outta useless assholes like that any day!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fushimi drawled back. He seemed at least a little less guarded as he resumed his narrative. “As far as _she_ goes, I’m not sure how she did it or what the terms were, but she tracked down the exact summoning circle and struck a deal with that guy.” He frowned again, reaching up to push his glasses higher on his nose absently. “Normally, since the birth happened in _this_ realm, I would’ve been human. But she somehow transferred all custody to him, and it ended up the other way.”

That struck a chord. Yata felt an immediate understanding – a sense of shared experience – at the new information. Being born into a place you didn't quite belong... Yeah, he knew what that felt like. He’d lived it. And maybe he’d had the benefit of one loving parent, but that sense of not fitting in – of being something _other_...

He knew it all too well. “What happened?” he asked, voice a bit rough and uneven. In that moment, the sense of affinity for Fushimi was strong within him; he felt like he wanted to know more – get closer – and that was the only way he could think of to do it.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, glancing aside sharply as if to avoid Yata’s gaze. “Nothing that interesting,” he mumbled. “Since he had custody, he could show up periodically – he liked to do it at random, I think.” Another click of his tongue, and his frown deepened. “Not that he'd do anything particularly useful. I only learned to use my powers by watching him.”

‘Watching him’... _As in, he used illusions on his kid, right?_ The thought, along with Fushimi’s earlier hints about ‘getting a reaction’ and ‘fucking with people’, created enough of a picture for him to see red for a moment, fingers clenching more firmly. _Bastard!_

Still, though... “Wait – that shit you do, you picked it up just by watching him do it?”

“More or less – at least at first.” Fushimi shrugged, turning to look at him again with obvious wariness. “It’s not really that hard to pick up the basics.”

“Huh? No way!” Thinking back on it, the cool way that Fushimi manifested objects, explaining away how illusions could trick the natural order if they were strong enough... It was even cooler to think he’d mostly taught it to himself. Yata felt the admiration bubbling up in his chest manifest as a smile that widened on his face as he stared back. “Even if it's just the basics or whatever, that’s still fucking amazing!”

Fushimi’s eyebrows furrowed, that hint of bewilderment making its way back onto his features. More than anything, he looked nonplussed – as if he didn't quite know what to make of that reaction. “Not really. It... wasn’t like I had any other choice.” He clicked his tongue again, frowning a bit. “At some point, a survival instinct will kick in for anyone, right? I could only rely on myself in that situation, since that guy would keep scaring off the housekeepers every time he showed up.” That came with a snort. “Not that I blame them. But it pissed _her_ off, and she’d show up to argue with him. I learned a lot of what I know just by listening to them.”

It was crazy how well he could picture that: a younger, smaller Fushimi hovering around the periphery of an argument that put him on the outside of what should’ve been his family. Maybe because – though things hadn’t been nearly so bad for him – he could relate to that feeling. There had been times when he’d lingered on the outside of his mom’s new family and their happiness, too. That sense of being _unnecessary_ – it brought back the ache he’d felt before, but stronger.

_Must’ve been way worse in his case. But he still came this far._

He wondered if Fushimi had felt the same burning need to prove himself – to raise up above whatever fate had cursed him with those circumstances – that had consumed Yata through his teen years.

Maybe they could’ve related to each other really well, even back then.

Once again, Fushimi seemed awkward in the face of Yata’s silent solidarity; he glanced aside again, clicking his tongue. “Anyway, there’s not much else. One thing you should know about demon offspring is that they don’t have a summoning circle right away. Energy comes automatically from whichever parent is a demon, and you inherit the essence of their circle when they die.” He shrugged, once again with that jerky motion, still not making eye contact. “When that happened, it basically made me a full demon with my own circle, so of course I got sent to the ‘right’ realm.” At that, he made another of those humorless huffs. “I was halfway expecting it to happen any day after I learned about it – if anything, it was a surprise it wasn’t sooner.”

“Whoa, seriously?” That was pretty damn intense, the thought of being all at once in a strange place with no warning or much of an idea what to expect. A mingling of respect and admiration stirred to life in Yata’s belly. “What’d you do?”

“I scrapped by. What else could anyone do in that situation?” Fushimi clicked his tongue again, seeming a bit agitated. “That guy had a large reserve of energy already – like I said, he took contracts for fun. It was enough for me to use to find my bearings. That place isn’t so different from this one, and I’d had some time to prepare a plan, at least.” He huffed out a sharp sigh. “I managed on my own for a few years, but I’ll admit it was better after the Captain recruited me. At least he had meaningful work to offer.”

_Not just that, though, huh?_ Even apart from getting out of what sounded like a really shitty – and lonely – situation, it felt like there was more to that ‘meaningful work’. Yata had spent enough time over the past month listening to the grumblings and the tiny tidbits of explanation to grasp a little of what lay behind Fushimi’s dishonest behavior. “And comrades too, right?”

Fushimi shot him a frown. “That’s not the word I’d use for those idiots,” he answered dryly, and then let out a short breath, resignation softening his expression. “But I guess they are a part of it.”

“Right?” Yata grinned back at him, catching the edge of that connection as their eyes met. He risked a tiny step toward Fushimi, following a sudden urge to be closer, and was gratified when no move was made to reset the distance between them.

Something occurred to him as they spent a moment of comfortable silence. “Hey,” he started, a bit hesitantly. “Does anyone call you by your first name?”

Fushimi blinked, and then his eyebrows furrowed. “Nobody’s called me that since I left this place.” Then he grimaced, clicking his tongue. “Not consistently, anyway.”

“Right. That’s kinda what I thought.” Yata took in a breath, feeling inexplicably nervous, and blurted, “How about if I called you that?”

At that, Fushimi’s eyes widened, just slightly. “You…” That trailed off, and he frowned slightly, looking away. “Didn’t you say we’re not close enough to be on a first name basis?”

“Hey, you gotta admit we got a lot closer these last few days,” Yata reminded him, the corners of his mouth edging up ruefully as he did. It was hard to figure out what Fushimi was thinking based on his expression, but he still forged ahead anyway. “That’s not really why, though. I was just thinking, when you said that stuff about my name and how it doesn’t say anything about who I am, it kinda helped. Since then… you calling me that makes me feel like I reclaimed it a bit. Y’know?” He reached up to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. “I figured you had nothing but bad memories of yours too, if it was just that asshole calling you it.”

He could hear Fushimi’s breath catch; a moment later, he was looking over again, something unusually lost and vulnerable in his expression. He seemed to have been caught without a proper response, staring at Yata in mute astonishment.

It was enough to fuel that ache in Yata’s throat; to make him want to reach further. He straightened as much as he could, returning the gaze steadily. “It’s part of you, right? If you want, I’ll help you claim it. Saruhiko.”

There was a stark moment of silence so thick it was nearly suffocating. Yata held his breath, anticipation and anxiety warring in his stomach…

Fushimi was the first to move, letting out a shuddering breath and shutting his eyes. He dipped his head forward, shoulders slouching as if he were admitting defeat, and then clicked his tongue. “Do what you want,” he mumbled.

The sudden capitulation felt a little bit cathartic; Yata couldn’t help the grin spreading wide across his face, and nodded. “Right!”

He could see the tiny hint of an answering smile on Fushimi’s – _Saruhiko’s_ – lips even before his eyes opened again to meet Yata’s, and the spark of something bright and fluttery seemed to flare to life within him. It felt like a victory for sure.

The moment was interrupted by the warning thrum of the sunstone in Saruhiko’s hand. Yata jerked a little, startled by the sudden shift in the mood, and Saruhiko hummed lightly. “At least its timing is better this time.”

Thinking about the last few times this had happened, Yata couldn’t help but snort in response. “Got that right.” In the wake of that moment of closeness and with the light of the moon encouraging him, he felt bold enough to let his eyelids fall to half-mast, smirking up at Saruhiko. “Feel like changing that now?”

For a moment, Saruhiko just blinked at him again – and then he recovered quickly, eyes glittering in the pale light as he returned the smirk. “Fine by me,” he murmured, and leaned in just in time to meet Yata halfway.


	15. Chapter 15

It wasn’t too late when Yata woke on the morning of the solstice – at least, not compared to the day before. Well before noon, anyway.

For once, Fushimi – _Saruhiko_ , he had to remind himself, with a tiny rush of triumph from the previous night’s success – was still asleep too, breathing heavy and even against the back of his neck. Yata couldn’t help but smile a little at the sensation. It was sorta nice to wake up to, despite the discomfort of being crammed into the same bed. One of Saruhiko’s arms was slung carelessly over him, probably something that had happened during the night since they’d started out back to back, and their skin was in contact. It was too hot and Yata’s knees were hanging off the edge of the bed, but he still liked it. It was… intimate.

They’d fucked again when they got in the night before, reaching for each other in unspoken consensus immediately after the door had shut behind them. It had been slower and less urgent than the previous night, but just as amazing; the feeling when their bodies joined brought out a deep satisfaction in Yata. Not just the physical sensation of Saruhiko moving inside him, but… Well, it was hard to explain.

He liked it, though. A lot.

_Guess it has been a while._ Not just for sex, but the little things, too – like waking up next to someone. It was a really good feeling.

It was clear out again that day, too; Yata could tell by the light streaming in through the little window above them. If they were doing any more charging, it probably would’ve been a good time for it.

The thought brought the stones back to the front of his mind; without really considering it, he reached under his pillow and slid the moonstone free, moving slowly to try and avoid jostling Saruhiko. It was smooth against his fingers as he rolled it absently in his hand, watching the light catch against the ice-like cracks within. He could feel the sun’s power within it, warm and inviting, and it seemed to give that glitter less of a sharp edge – more welcoming, even as it maintained its cool beauty.

For some reason, he felt like he was gonna miss having it when they had to hand them back in. It set off a little pang in his chest just thinking about it.

Saruhiko shifted behind him, a low moan muffled against the pillow behind Yata’s head, and the arm draped against his side moved sluggishly. A huff of warm breath hit the back of his neck, making the fine hairs rise up, and then Saruhiko was mumbling out a sleepy-sounding, “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Nothing.” Yata closed his fingers around the stone, cutting it off from view, and tilted his head to try and aim a smile over his shoulder. “Morning.”

“Mm.” Saruhiko sighed again, breath ghosting along Yata’s skin again, and then he shifted again, hand bracing purposefully on Yata’s abdomen so that his fingers teased the line of his underwear. “Morning,” he drawled, low and throaty with sleep but still carrying that teasing undertone.

Yata couldn’t have stopped the lazy grin spreading on his face if he’d wanted to, reveling in the beginning prickle of arousal as his body responded.

This was an invitation he wasn’t about to turn down.

After they’d finished and cleaned up, Saruhiko asked him, “Does the Captain ever ask you to work on the solstice?”

“Nope.” Yata stepped into his shoes, turning as he adjusted them. “I’m part of another coven, so the shit I do for him can’t get in the way of that. We don’t have a real contract or anything – I just do that stuff on the side – but he’s gotta know that’s how it is.”

“Yeah, he would.” Saruhiko frowned slightly. “There are a lot of limitations to what you can do for him, huh?” he mused, almost to himself. “I wonder how he plans to fill that gap.”

Yata raised an eyebrow. “What d’you mean?”

“Nothing.” Saruhiko shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Huh.” Yata eyed him for a second longer, then shrugged it off. “Okay.”

Homra was busy when they arrived, which was more or less what he'd expected, with it being solstice. Normally they didn't do regular meet-ups unless there was a major spell-casting planned so it was kinda hard to get everyone together at once, but there were certain occasions when everyone went out of their way to be there. Both solstice holidays fit into that category - and with Homra's ruling aspect being the sun, the summer solstice was always the most energetic. So when he swung open the door with his usual greeting on his lips and was met immediately by the lively blend of sounds coming from his friends within, it was warm and familiar.

“Yo, Yata-san!” Kamamoto greeted him boisterously, and grinned when he caught sight of Saruhiko behind him. “Yo, Fushimi.”

“Still here, hm?” Totsuka added, with a smile.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, but didn't respond. Yata offered a sheepish grin and a shrug.

“Man.” The response came from Chitose this time, who was leaning back against the back with both elbows braced on it. He shook his head, letting out a mocking sigh. “The rest of us can't bring dates, but Yata’s allowed his demon boyfriend, huh? That's favoritism for ya.”

_Boyfriend._ Yata shot him a frown, trying to cover the little wriggling feeling of something within him responding to the word. “Hey, not like I have a choice here!”

Chitose spread his hands in a ‘what can you do’ manner, that teasing smile still on his face. “Noticed you’re not denying the 'boyfriend' part.”

Somehow, that caught him off-guard. Yata blinked. “That’s...”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue before the silence could become more telling. “There’s only so many times you can tell a joke before it starts to get old and predictable,” he muttered. Lowering his voice even further to a tone that sounded almost dark, he added, “Anyway, I won’t be around to bother you for too much longer.”

“Ah...” It was the truth, but somehow it strung a funny, almost painful chord in Yata's chest. He cleared his throat to cover it up, and nodded, avoiding the oddly compelling urge to turn and catch Saruhiko’s expression. “R-right. What he said.”

_The hell’s up with me lately?_

“Well, it shouldn’t be a problem for one solstice celebration,” Kusanagi cut in smoothly. He offered Saruhiko a smile. “Consider yourself our guest this time, Fushimi.”

Saruhiko didn't respond; when Yata turned to sneak a glance, he was standing with his gaze turned slightly, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. It was a casual enough pose for him, but with the fresh insights of the night before, somehow it now struck Yata as... really awkward. It was obvious that Saruhiko felt out of place.

If he was younger... fresh and enthusiastic and thinking the world of his newfound coven... he probably would’ve shrugged that off and tried to pull Fushimi along into his circle of friends. Assuming everyone felt like him, and just bulling ahead with his own interests...

That was in the past, though. Yata swallowed back the little rush of self-consciousness and went with his instincts. “You got the decorations ready, Kusanagi-san? We'll go on ahead and set up.”

His older friend tilted his head, a considering look in his eyes. “If you want. It’ll be a few hours yet before the rest of us can join you.”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Yata shrugged. “We can take our time flying out there.” He grinned over his shoulder. “You’re up for it, right, Saruhiko?”

That expression he caught was that vaguely bewildered one again. It was familiar by now, but it still felt like Yata’s heart kicked up a notch or two when he saw it. He wasn't sure why, but as usual Saruhiko seemed to shutter up almost as soon as their eyes met. He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose, momentarily causing them to catch the light and hide his eyes from view. “It’s fine.”

Totsuka let out a low whistle, breaking into the moment. “‘Saruhiko’, eh?”

“Huh?” _Oh – right._ Yata turned sharply, already waving his hands with a kind of flustered ferocity even as he felt warmth build on his face. He still wasn’t used to it himself, using that name, so it felt weird to have someone else commenting on it. “W-wait, that’s – that’s just – ”

“Misaki.” Anna’s quiet voice cut through his babbling. She’d crossed the room while he’d had his head turned and was now standing in front of him, holding out a box full of what looked like fresh red flowers. “Use these to decorate.”

“Oh.” It would’ve been hard to deny her anything when she offered that tiny smile, eyes seeming to shine despite the calm expression. Yata took the box, letting the rest of it go as he smiled back ruefully. “Yeah, leave it to me!”

“I’ve got the rest in the back room,” Kusanagi added. “If you’re planning to head out right away, want to grab 'em now?”

“Of course!”

He ended up leaving the flowers to Saruhiko, who didn't offer much beyond a muttered ‘why should I have to help?’ even as he took the box. The second load, which was quite a bit heavier, Yata took himself, and they set out like that.

Despite the fact that he’d talked about taking their time as they flew over, he didn’t linger in the air for too long. Not because the burden he was carrying was all that cumbersome – he’d handled worse, and for longer – but because he was anxious to settle somewhere he could actually talk with Saruhiko. There wasn’t anything specific to say, but somehow he was eager for it all the same. It was funny: even though they were together all the time, lately he found himself looking forward to those interactions more and more.

It was… weird, honestly. Things had changed a lot between them. And maybe some of it was the last few days being really intense, but in a way it kinda felt like those last few days were another symptom rather than the cause.

Still, he had no idea what the cause was. It was bugging him, like an itch he couldn’t reach to scratch.

“So?” Saruhiko asked him after they’d landed and set their burdens down at the scorched patch of land near the grove of trees that concealed his garden. “What do you do once you’re out here?”

“Decorate. Well, sorta.” Yata offered him a grin. “We can at least get the bells and flowers out so they look decent. Anna will probably want to move things around a bit when she sees it, but it’s easier than doing it all at once when she gets here.”

“If you say so.” Saruhiko looked from the boxes to the sparse trees in the area, expression dubious. “Where exactly are you planning to hang them all?”

“We got a couple of folding posts I just gotta set up – plus the trees.” Yata shrugged, setting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the area. “It’s kinda sparse and all, but the fae don’t mind as long as there’s a good party going.” At that, he smirked. “If you don’t watch out, they’ll prank you.”

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow. “I’ll manage somehow. Either way…” He raised his hand, languidly turning it up and materializing a copy of one of the red flowers Anna had given them. “If you’re worried about decorations being sparse, I can help with that.”

Yata blinked, momentarily startled, and then shook his head, smile turning sheepish. “Right, that – I kinda forgot.” Looking up from the illusion to meet Saruhiko’s gaze, he added, “You’re a pretty useful guy to have around, huh?”

Saruhiko’s eyelids lowered just a bit, lips turning up in a small, almost mocking smile – but without the usual edge. “I wonder how you’d react if you could hear yourself say that when we first met.”

Somehow, that look made his heart skip a beat. “Yeah, well things change when you get to know a guy.” On impulse – and because the feeling swelling up in his chest flooded him with the urge to do it – he took a step closer, reaching out to brush his fingers over Saruhiko’s. Even that simple contact set off the pleasant flutter in his belly, shivering through his body and along his skin.

Saruhiko blinked at him, clearly taken aback, and then shut his eyes, letting out a small, amused huff. “This morning wasn’t enough, huh?”

“Eh?” Yata frowned, puzzled – and then the meaning struck all at once and he jerked his hand back, mortification surging up fast and furious within him. “Th-That’s not what I was going for, you asshole!”

“Hm?” The little mocking hum came at the same time as Saruhiko opened his eyes to half mast, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Could’ve fooled me.” He turned his own hand, letting the flower dissipate. “Well, not like I mind.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t.” Yata snorted, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head with a kind of confused and flustered energy. Had he been giving off a vibe like that? He hadn’t thought of it that way, but maybe…

_Fuck, who knows what it feels like on his end._

It wasn’t worth thinking about too much. Yata shrugged off the embarrassment, stepping back to look around again. “Anyway, everyone else will probably get here pretty quick after we finish, but if not, we can visit my stash. Or fly around, whatever.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “‘Whatever’ sounds like the best option.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Somehow, that brought a fond smile to his lips. “Fussy bastard.”

Decorating went by pretty quickly. Yata was used to it after years of Homra celebrations. With his wings, he was in the best position to get things up in high places like on the trees. He arranged the various bells and wind chimes with Anna’s flowers around them, trying to space them evenly and stifling his annoyance at Saruhiko’s critical comments long enough to fix whatever didn’t look right. When he began to set up the folding posts so that more bells and flowers could be arranged around the blackened fire pit, the help he got became more concrete – additional posts, small decorative fences, and extra flowers and bells.

There was a small breeze already, so by the time they’d finished, the area had a faint musical aura – one that Yata could feel tugging at some deep part of him. The whimsical atmosphere made him feel relaxed and energized, eagerly anticipating the festivities that they were setting up for.

Plus… the setup looked great, even if he had to say it himself.

“We make a pretty good team, huh?” he commented lightly as they surveyed the result.

There was a slight frown on Saruhiko’s face. “It wasn’t a complete disaster, I guess.”

“Heh.” Yata grinned at him in response. “That sounds a lot like ‘yeah, we’re awesome’, coming from you.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, glancing at him only briefly before looking away. “Think what you want.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” The pessimistic attitude wasn’t about to dampen his spirits. “I’ll bet Anna won’t even have anything for us to fix this time!”

As it turned out, Anna did have a few requests, but her first action upon leaving Kusanagi’s car was to look around slowly and then turn to smile at them. “Thank you, Misaki.” Her eyes drifted past him. “And thank you for helping, Saruhiko.”

Saruhiiko looked vaguely nonplussed with that praise. He clicked his tongue. “I didn’t do much.”

“Don’t listen to him, Anna – he helped out a lot!” Yata beamed at her. “There’s a bunch of extra stuff around here thanks to him, and we don’t even have to take it down. Pretty cool, huh?”

Chitose, who’d parked his motorcycle behind them, let out a low whistle. “Sounds like your boyfriend’s got you beat when it comes to this stuff, huh?”

“Huh? Hey, I still did most of this shit!” Belatedly, Yata remembered to add, “And he’s not my boyfriend, goddamnit!”

“Sure, sure.” Chitose laughed, shrugging, and moved to help unload the purified wood from Kusanagi’s trunk, ignoring Yata’s scowl.

“You sure are lively,” Saruhiko mumbled, sounding irritable.

Yata glanced at him. “What’s wrong with that?” Without waiting for an answer, he went ahead with, “Anyway, we’re just goofing around. This shit is normal.”

Saruhiko’s frown deepened. “Not for me,” he muttered.

_It doesn’t have to be for you._ The words were right on the tip of his tongue, fueled by a sudden irritation, but before he could say them, Anna said, “Misaki. I want to group those bells together.”

“Oh… right.” That snapped him out of that mood. Yata turned to offer her a sheepish smile, following the line of her finger. “You got it!”

With everyone working together, they made quick work of fixing the decorations to Anna’s satisfaction and setting up both the fire pit and the tables that were quickly loaded with food. Coolers holding the drinks were set up beside them, and Totsuka brought out his guitar to begin a counterpart to the music of the chimes and bells as the sky started to darken.

_Almost time, huh?_

The air was thick with magic and presence even before the fire had been lit. Yata could feel the sense of familiarity and comfort settling in his bones, and stepped back away from the lively conversation that had formed around the food and drinks and entertainment to stand slightly apart, raising his face up to greet the moon for a brief moment as it became clear in the sky on midsummer’s eve.

He was _happy_. It was normal, being around the people closest to him, and especially on the solstice, but somehow right then he felt it more than usual. It was strange and consuming, making him feel giddy and light – as if he’d gotten drunk on his own contentment.

“Just about time, huh?” Kusanagi’s voice cut into his thoughts; when Yata lowered his gaze, he found his older friend fixing him with what looked like an appraising gaze. “I’d give it a minute or two before we finally put Mikoto to work.”

“Ah… right.” Yata grinned back, a bit sheepish at being caught drifting. It wasn’t unusual in places this close to fae territory and on holidays where their magic could be felt in the air, but he still couldn’t help it. The comment had his gaze wandering to where Mikoto lounged near the fire pit, back up against one of the posts and eyes closed as Totsuka continued to play the guitar not far from him. “Mikoto-san is always the one who ends up tending the fire, huh?”

“It’s the only job he’ll actually do,” Kusanagi noted wryly. There was a fond undertone to his voice despite the criticism; when Yata turned back to him, he was also looking in Mikoto’s direction. “Something about dealing with fire seems to suit him, anyway.”

Not that long ago, he probably would’ve responded with something like ‘because Mikoto-san is fierce and powerful like a fire’. That sense of his old self wasn’t so far off that Yata couldn’t feel the little echo of his own overblown pride and blind hero worship from back in those days – an overzealous reaction to finding a place that he could belong to and excel in. These days, he’d tempered a lot of it but the traces were still there. Despite having spoken on a personal level with Mikoto more than once and being aware that he had burdens of his own to struggle with, the instinctive sense of awe that inspired Yata’s respect and loyalty still lingered.

Because of that, he felt the need to respond with something strongly in Mikoto’s favor, even if it wasn’t on the level of his previous thoughtless praise. “Feels like Mikoto-san is someone who could win against a fire most of the time.”

Kusanagi shot him a startled glance, and then let out a brief huff of laughter. “That’s a different way to look at it.” He shook his head. “Though, if it came down to it, you may be right.” His gaze slid past Yata then, somewhere beyond his right shoulder. “Is Fushimi all right on his own over there?”

The comment had him instantly turning his head in that direction, though he already knew what he’d see. Saruhiko had positioned himself deliberately on the outside of the celebration, his arms crossed as he stood awkwardly, head turned as if he were studying something in the distance with fascination. When Yata had first noticed him doing it, he’d gone out and suggested that Saruhiko come in and join the group, which had earned him a click of Saruhiko’s tongue and a low “I’m fine out here”. Yata had stayed a couple of moments longer with the thought of keeping him company, but had eventually gotten a pointed “Didn’t you come here to celebrate with your coven?” and gave that up as well. It was like Saruhiko had decided before anything had started that he wasn’t going to have any fun, and he was stubbornly sticking to that no matter what.

If it had been a few years ago, Yata would’ve kept trying to drag him in; even now, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bubble of confused annoyance. After all, if Saruhiko just _tried_ , or at least didn’t let Yata’s efforts go to waste… But he’d done enough of that in the past, forcing his own feelings on others, and the understanding the two of them had built was still fresh. If he stopped to think about it carefully like he was trying to do more these days, he had to admit the truth: they were similar in a lot of ways, but this wasn’t one of them.

“Don’t think this is his kinda scene,” he admitted to Kusanagi, letting his eyes linger on that cool, distant profile just a bit longer.

Despite his obvious discomfort… Saruhiko hadn’t complained at all.

“I think you’re right about that,” Kusanagi agreed, and then chuckled. “Well, at least you know he can compromise – you’d be surprised how important that is.” When Yata turned to shoot him a puzzled look, he shrugged. “You’ll probably learn it soon enough, but you know that ‘love conquers all’ is a myth, right? Sometimes disagreements run too deep to just talk out.”

Realization sunk in – Yata felt a rush of mortification surge up through him, bringing heat to his face. “Wait, wait, wait!” He waved his hands furiously. “Saruhiko’s not – not actually my boyfriend or anything – it’s – things are kind of…”

“Oh?” Kusanagi drew a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering a knowing sort of smile. “It’s ‘complicated’, right? I’ve been there.” He pulled out a single smoke, holding it between his fingers as he returned the rest of the pack. “Dunno if things are serious yet, but I know that look.” His smile turned a bit rueful as he fished for his lighter. “Love will either come at you hard and fast or sneak up on you to the point you can’t tell you’re hit until it’s too late. It doesn’t take long when find one that clicks.”

_One that clicks._ Yata frowned, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder again. “You got it all wrong, Kusanagi-san. Yeah, we’re – y’know – we’re _doing_ it” – the admission caused another fierce heat to flare beneath his skin – “but it’s not… not _that_.” It felt too awkward to say the word, a kind of squirming discomfort forming within him even as he talked about it.

It _wasn’t_. Right?

“That so?” Kusanagi lit his cigarette, taking a long drag and letting it out before responding further. “Well, if I’m sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, don’t mind me.” He reached out to clap Yata’s shoulder lightly, offering an easy smile that was strangely offset by a serious gaze. “Maybe give it some thought before you write it off, though. Save yourself some pain in the end.”

Yata stared back at him, unable to think of anything to respond with. It felt like his mind had gone blank.

“Well, enough of that.” Kusanagi pulled his hand back, tilting his head up to regard the darkening sky. “I’d say it’s about time to get the fire going, hm?” Without waiting for Yata’s response, he stepped back and away, heading off in Mikoto’s direction.

The stunned paralysis that had struck Yata in his wake was interrupted by a nudge in his side. “Oi.” When he jerked and glanced over, startled, he found himself facing a frowning Saruhiko. “What was all this” – one slender finger reached up to tap the side of his head lightly – “about?”

“Eh?” For a second, Yata could only stare at him blankly – and then it sunk in exactly what he was being asked, and he couldn’t help the rush of flustered panic that washed over him in response. “Th-that… Nothing!” He waved his hands again with frenzied energy. “Just – just never mind!”

If anything, Saruhiko’s eyes only narrowed with further suspicion, but Yata was spared the trouble of making any more useless excuses by the soft notes of the guitar fading and Totsuka’s voice calling out, “We’re starting the fire, everyone! Come on!”

The flurry of activity around them was like a blessing. Yata cleared his throat, grinning with relief. “Right, fire time!” Impulsively, he reached out to take hold of Saruhiko’s wrist, dragging him in towards the fire pit where the others were gathering. “C’mon!”

He could hear the telltale sound of Saruhiko clicking his tongue with annoyance, but he didn’t resist.

This was the highlight of summer solstice as far as Yata was concerned. The way the flames caught on the wood and began to rapidly grow, reaching up toward the sky, made it seem like they were dancing along to the haunting music from the various bells and wind chimes set up around the site. He could almost get a sense of a soul from it, gleefully expanding and swaying as they became a part of the magic of the night. He could’ve watched them for hours.

Maybe that was why his previously frazzled brain began to calm. Watching the fire grow, Yata could feel himself settle, thoughts clearing. Saruhiko’s wrist was still held in his hand; no attempt had been made to free it, and the notion that the contact might even be welcome made him feel pleasantly warm – like the mental reflection of the heat from the fire brushing against his face.

_“Love will either come at you hard and fast or sneak up on you to the point you can’t tell you’re hit until it’s too late.”_

_Or both,_ Yata’s brain appended, and it felt like that clicked things into place.

That was really it.

All the moments of feeling good in a way that he couldn’t explain…

The flutter in his belly when their eyes met…

Looking forward to being together – interacting in whatever way – even when they had nothing in particular to say, and they did it all the time anyway…

He was seriously in fucking love with this guy.

Maybe not totally. Maybe just ‘falling’ – but falling fast and hard enough to call it love, even now. And like Kusanagi had said, it had also snuck up on him. Yata felt that little tendril of something warm and thrilling spreading out from his chest – partly wonder and partly a kind of release at finally knowing. At finally _admitting_ it. He’d been feeling this way for a while, falling for Saruhiko, and hadn’t recognized it for what it was.

_I’m seriously a dumbass._ Even the self-deprecating thought held too much good humor. Yata could feel the corners of his mouth edging up. He felt like laughing. Like jumping off the ground and throwing his arms in the air. Finally – _finally_ he could place this feeling.

He was here at solstice in front of the fire, surrounded by the most important people in his life, and he was _in love_. It was hard to believe, but it was real.

He _loved_ Saruhiko.

At the peak of that soaring height, Yata felt his eyes drawn to the side, the solid weight of Saruhiko’s wrist within the circle of his fingers seeming to send little sparks of warmth through him. That bubbling happiness had him nearly trembling with the expectation of Saruhiko’s eyes meeting his, sharing the understanding of that emotion he’d taken so long to identify and accepting it – maybe even returning it. In that moment, he had nothing but hope – optimism, even – that surely this was mutual. They had clicked in almost every single way, their thoughts and feelings seeming to synchronize more and more as they got to know each other. It _had_ to be mutual.

And yet, when he turned, all he saw was the side of Saruhiko’s head, a frown on his lips and his gaze fixed stubbornly in front of him.

Confusion hit first. _He… he feels it, right?_ All of Yata’s emotions got through to Saruhiko – that had been proven again and again. There was no way he didn’t feel it.

No way he hadn’t felt it… all of it…

All this time…

Slow, cold realization was settling. Yata felt his body still, growing awareness making the contact of his skin against Saruhiko’s feel clammy and uncomfortable. He was just figuring this out now, yeah, but Saruhiko had been feeling it _through_ him the whole time.

The whole time, he’d known exactly how Yata had felt, and he’d said nothing.

He was _still_ saying nothing.

_Say something!_ A knot of dread had formed in his stomach, but he couldn’t quite release the last, desperate dregs of hope from pounding around in his chest. Yata tightened his fingers on Saruhiko’s wrist a bit, watching his face for a sign – anything. _At least look at me, goddamnit!_

The frown on Saruhiko’s face shifted to a grimace; he clicked his tongue, turning his head to the opposite side to further obscure his expression.

That was enough to kill the last tattered shreds of it. Yata released his grip, feeling numb to the core as he pulled his hand back and turned away. The only sensation that seemed to register across his entire body as the sound of fire crackling and bells chiming softly played in mocking counterpart to the moment was the throbbing ache that spread across his chest and up his throat.

The fall from that height was crushing, as it turned out.


	16. Chapter 16

Yata’s memory of crossing into the grove of trees was hazy and he wasn’t totally sure how he managed to navigate well enough to make his way over to his garden. By the time he got there, he was breathing harshly and his hands had clenched into fists. His vision was suspiciously blurry; he scowled furiously against the sharp sting behind his eyes.

It was stupid to get this upset over it. What did he expect?

What the _hell_ had he expected? He was a fucking idiot, getting his hopes up like that.

Even the usually calming atmosphere in that space wasn’t doing anything to soothe the hurt throbbing within him. Yata felt his breathing become labored, as if the air was too thick. His throat seemed to burn with each intake. It was like his emotions were ruling the area around him, powerful and untamed, warping it from a relaxed and seductive place to something dark and twisted. He could barely see the plants he’d carefully cultivated, everything seeming to blur together into unimportant fragments as the energy fed into his frustration and sadness.

His instincts were calling out for some action – anything to quell his pain – but he didn’t know _what_.

_What am I supposed to do now?_ He didn’t have any answers.

Soft footsteps behind him interrupted those pained thoughts, and he heard the familiar sound of Saruhiko's tongue clicking. “You didn't have to run off like that.”

Last person in the world he wanted to see right now. Yata clenched his teeth, a surge of anger flaring up through the ache. “Go away,” he gritted out, struggling to keep his temper in check.

It was starting to hit him just how much Saruhiko had been fucking with him over the past few days. Every time – every _single fucking time_ he'd stopped to question what that unexpected rush of feelings meant, he’d been interrupted, sidetracked and misled. The cool, unapologetic and methodical way it had been done was almost enraging.

The only reason he was even _trying_ not to get up in Saruhiko’s face over this shit was because he knew it probably wasn't personal. It may have been cold, but this was never supposed to be a _thing_ in the first place. They weren’t dating or anything, just two adults having casual sex. It wasn’t really Saruhiko's fault that Yata had caught real feelings, and if he didn’t want to have to deal with the fallout, well... he wasn’t the fucking first.

_What the hell is wrong with me, anyway?_ He always did shit like this, letting his emotions get the best of him. It figured that the first person he'd fall in love with for real would end up not returning it. And not just that, but also being actively bothered by his feelings.

It really was going to be better for everyone when this contract ended, even if thinking about it now made him feel like his stomach was hollowing out into some kind of pit of despair.

_It was over before it really started, huh?_

He expected Saruhiko to click his tongue again and make some cutting remark, but all he heard instead was a sharp sigh followed by a mumbled, “You know I can't.”

Right, and then there was that. _Fucking pain in the ass contract!_ Without looking, Yata clenched his fists harder and snarled back, “Then turn the fuck around, you asshole!”

If he couldn't be alone, he at least didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

Saruhiko did click his tongue then, though it seemed to have a half-hearted feel to it. “I don’t know why you're making such a big deal out of this,” he muttered, sounding unexpectedly resentful. “It’s not like you don’t have other options, so there's no point in getting fixated.”

At that, Yata did spin around, fixing him with an incredulous stare. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded.

“It’s obvious, right?” Saruhiko’s arms were crossed over his chest almost defensively, his gaze dark and a frown on his lips. “There’s no one in this plane who could be with you for your entire lifespan, so of course you'd get attached to an option that would.” He raised an eyebrow almost challengingly, tone beginning to take on that condescending drawl. “The answer to that is obvious, though. Just pick another circle from that book of yours, and you're bound to get a demon who will be willing to – ”

Sudden and overwhelming rage had Yata moving before he could stop to think, reaching out with a wordless snarl and grabbing a handful of Saruhiko’s shirt to pull him in roughly so that he could fix a desperate and furious glare on his face. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” he growled. “I’m gonna punch you in the face, you goddamn asshole!”

Saruhiko’s lids lowered, a little spark of something that Yata couldn’t place lighting in what remained visible of his eyes. “What? Isn't it the truth?” His lips curled in a small, mocking edge of a smirk. “You summoned me because you were lonely – isn’t that right, Misaki?” The name drew out slowly and deliberately. “Wouldn’t you have jumped at the chance to have _anyone_ fill that gap? It doesn’t matter who it is in the end.”

The anger coursing through Yata's veins was so strong that he was shaking with it, fingers clenched so hard on Saruhiko’s shirt that they were white and trembling. “You don't know what you're talking about!” he snapped back. “Don’t mouth off about shit you don't even understand! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

_He seriously thinks I'm just that desperate?_ Behind the fury that was driving him, Yata could feel the unmistakable hurt that was making his throat seem to close up and his chest constrict. Worse than a rejection, this was the person he’d fallen for brushing off his feelings as if they meant nothing. Dismissing them like he could just turn around and point them at someone else.

If only it was that damn easy...

"Don’t I?" Saruhiko was still offering him that hateful smirk, eyes lidded. “Or maybe I’ve just touched a nerve.” When Yata gave his shirt a rough tug, he swayed easily with it, a breathless little huff of laughter escaping him. “Explain to me how you were expecting a random summon to give you someone who’d ease that loneliness if you were planning to be selective about it, then. Hm?”

“You…” The word came out as a growl again, rage and pain mingling in his belly. Yata glowered back, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You think I expected to summon up a boyfriend? Hah!” Somehow, he managed to huff out that last word, sneering back without humor. “Yeah, I was lonely – so what? Think I couldn’t find someone if I was _that_ desperate?” Even just saying it now, he could feel the truth of it clicking into place in his head – a reality he’d been aware of despite not quite having it clear in his conscious thoughts. “What the hell do you think my problem was, then? Why d’you think I couldn’t even get a one-night stand? I've got _standards_ , damnit – I don’t just fuck any old asshole, and I sure as hell don't date them either!”

Saruhiko's expression had started to change partway through the rant; he was frowning by the time Yata paused for breath, looking uncharacteristically baffled. When the pause came, he clicked his tongue. “Then why – ?”

“Why’d I summon you?” Yata shook his head, letting out another humorless bark of a laugh. “Good question! I was drunk and frustrated and lonely...” Recalling that moment, he could feel some of the righteous fury start to drain out of him, the ache in his core spreading out to the rest of his body. It was hard to keep meeting Saruhiko's gaze, but he kept it up stubbornly, determined to at least make his feelings understood. Even if they weren't going to be returned... Well, he was gonna manage this much, at least. _I’m not letting you off that easily!_ “I thought maybe I’d get a sprite or a familiar or... something.” At that, he huffed, managing a small rueful smile. “My instincts led me to you.”

He could feel it as well as hear it when Saruhiko sucked in a sharp breath. Even as Yata watched, those grey-blue eyes widened, that endearingly startled look taking over his face. For a moment, he seemed unable to respond, caught without words as he stared mutely back.

“Look,” Yata went on, before he could collect himself and break the mood somehow, “I may be lonely, yeah, and sure, I’m gonna... outlive everyone here.” It was still painful to say, the words seeming to lodge in his throat, but he swallowed hard and pushed on. “But I still get to pick the people I wanna get close to.” He released the front of Saruhiko's shirt, stepping back to brace his hands on his hips and offering a sharp frown. “I won't be happy with just anyone, got it?”

Saruhiko was staring at him as if he’d just suddenly sprouted a second head; after a brief second, he clicked his tongue and looked away, eyebrows still furrowed and eyes unfathomable. It was an expression of clear frustration. “Why me?” he muttered, so low that Yata almost didn't catch it.

At least that one was easy. “Seriously?” Yata felt like laughing, almost giddy with the sudden relief that came with the honest question. “How can you even ask that? You’re so smart that I can barely look away from you – it’s like you can explain anything.” Once he’d started on the subject, he found it easy to keep going, following the instinctive flow of his emotions. “And even though you act like an asshole, you have this way of saying things, it’s so cool! You’re hard to keep up with, but you still try to explain shit to me, and even though you act like you don’t care, you put in all this effort to help me sort things out.” He shook his head, a little bit of the earlier warmth of those freshly realized feelings coursing through him and drawing out a reluctant smile. “Plus, you can make me laugh – and every time we talk, it just feels so _easy_ , like we’d never run out of things to say to each other.” He could feel his throat start to clog up again, and forced himself to finish, tone husky. “Why _wouldn’t_ I fall for you? You’re awesome, Saruhiko!”

His voice broke a little on the last of that, and Yata finally couldn’t stand it, turning his gaze aside hastily as that ache started again in his chest. He reached up to rub at the back of his neck to cover the moment of weakness and cleared his throat again. “I get it if you don’t feel the same, y’know," he managed, painfully forcing the words out against the pang of hurt as his heart seemed to squeeze in on itself. “You don’t have to pull all this bullshit out of your ass to make it okay to reject me. Just do it, say it – get it over with, all right? Don’t write my – my feelings off like that.”

There was a moment of tense silence between them, the air seeming to grow thicker with each passing second. The pounding of Yata’s heart felt loud in his own ears, and he had the uncomfortable impression that it was echoing out in the air around them, constricting further and further as they stood there.

He swallowed, ready to break that awkward moment by any means, when Saruhiko suddenly breathed in sharply, and let out a soft, dark chuckle. “The one who doesn't understand is you, Misaki,” he mumbled. When Yata glanced up sharply, he found himself being fixed with an unexpectedly expressive gaze, Saruhiko’s eyes seeming to burn into his with an intensity he'd never seen before.

For a moment, it felt like the breath had been sucked from his lungs. “Saruhiko...?”

“Me too,” Saruhiko cut him off, something of an uncontrolled edge in his voice even though the tone of it was low. “How would you expect me not to? Do you have any idea what it’s like being in your head?” He didn't wait for Yata to respond. “I've never felt emotions like yours before. You’re headstrong and thoughtless, but I can’t get enough. When you run wild, when you’re being yourself without holding back... I don’t know how you do it, throwing yourself into things you shouldn’t even care about so wholeheartedly. You’re so passionate and bright, it’s blinding. I can’t stand it, but I can’t get enough of it. It’s so annoying. I don’t understand – ” He cut off there, making a small, frustrated sound. “How does someone like you exist? How do you do it so easily, smiling like that and acting like that and just... _being you_. Why?” At that, his face seemed to twist in on itself, eyes taking on a desperate, lost edge. “Why am I so addicted to your emotions? To _you?_ It’s like you're a drug and I never had any chance after I was exposed.”

The outburst left Yata stunned, Saruhiko's outward show of sudden and passionate emotion almost more surprising that the words. He felt his heart flutter wildly in his chest, like a bird trying to bust out of its cage, and stared back, mesmerized. _He thinks of me like that?_ All those moments of trying to rein himself in, trying to curb his crazy, uncontrollable, stupid emotions... And all along, Saruhiko had _liked_ it.

It was almost too much to believe. Too much to _hope_ for, at this point.

The pause didn’t last long. Saruhiko’s eyes were intent, almost frenzied; when he spoke next, it was with a conviction that bordered on madness. “If you’ve really fallen for me, then prove it, Misaki.” He spread his arms expansively. “Leave the contract as it is. Keep me here.” An almost manic grin was building on his face. “Show me how much you’re demanding of me. Make me yours without holding back.”

Maybe part of it was the air in there, thick with magic, urging him to give in and indulge his every whim, or maybe it was the recent emotional storm he’d weathered taking its toll. Maybe both. Regardless, the command seemed to cause something in Yata’s brain to snap; he was moving before he was fully conscious of it, surging forward and into Saruhiko’s arms, a growl on his lips and fire lighting every nerve on his body. As he pressed forward against Saruhiko’s body and leaned up to aggressively capture his lips, he could hear those words repeating again and again in his head, like a mantra. _“Make me yours… make me yours… make me yours… Misaki…”_

Yes. Yes, yes, _yes_. Just the idea of it was burning within him.

It was so delicious that even the edge of _wrong_ that clung to the moment felt good, an erotic and tantalizing sense of forbidden passion that he couldn’t have resisted if he wanted to. Saruhiko’s lips were on his, the unmistakable scent of him clouding Yata’s senses and making his body tense with desire. The way they clung to each other, mouths joined and tongues clashing erratically, was desperate and clumsy. Their hands caught on each other’s clothing, arms tightening as they tried to draw closer and come into as much contact as possible.

He would’ve done anything Saruhiko wanted in that moment. All that mattered was the insistent, intoxicating need that had consumed his thoughts. He didn’t even want to think, just… _feel_.

They ended up backed onto a tree, with Yata insistently pressing Saruhiko against it and groaning low in his throat as Saruhiko responded to his aggression by rolling his hips forward, gripping Yata’s ass with both hands to hold him in place so their clothed erections ground together.

The sensation was incredible with the rush of adrenaline still strong in his veins. Yata pulled back hastily, chest heaving as he reached down to tug his shirt roughly over his head and then leaning back in against an already shirtless Saruhiko, eagerly widening his stance so that his knees could brace against the bark and they had leverage to thrust freely against each other.

Saruhiko made a soft thrumming noise against his mouth, fingers skating around Yata’s hips to tug meaningfully at his fly. There was an unmistakable tremor in them, eagerness seeming to make him clumsy. Yata brushed his hands aside and made quick work of removing the rest of his clothing, breaking their kiss in the process. They were both breathing heavily as they fumbled with Saruhiko’s pants as well, a cloud of heat seeming to form in the air between them.

It was fast, impulsive, thoughtless… He didn’t want to think. He wanted to feel Saruhiko’s body against him, moving inside him, the two of them becoming one.

Saruhiko _being his_.

It felt wrong on so many levels, but _right_ to his most base desires, and Yata wasn’t interested in anything outside of those at the moment. The need to join together, to _claim_ , was surging through his veins and consuming his every thought. His body ached for it, every nerve on edge. When Saruhiko’s fingers ran over his skin, he trembled with overpowering want, his own fingers tightening hard enough to leave more bruises on Saurhiko’s pale, supple arms and shoulders.

If the moan that vibrated against his lips was any indication, Saruhiko loved it as much as he did.

They sank to the ground when the last barrier of clothing was removed, Saruhiko’s back braced against the soft moss at the base of the tree and Yata straddling his hips. In this position, he had the advantage of height for once and used it without any hesitation, sliding the glasses off and setting them aside before bringing both hands to cup Saruhiko’s head. His fingers buried in that soft dark hair as he tilted it up further towards him, initiating another deep kiss.

The pleasant, throbbing ache in his body was so consuming that he barely noticed the telltale pain in his back until Saruhiko made a soft noise against his mouth, startled rather than aroused this time, and broke the kiss. When Yata blinked hazily at him, uncomprehending, he was staring in dazed, lustful wonder at some point beyond. His fingers slid up from the small of Yata’s back to brush along the line of his spine and out, along his –

Oh.

“Your wings,” Saruhiko murmured, as if it wasn’t obvious by that point. His gaze shifted back to meet Yata’s, dark with lust and a kind of possessive affection.

His cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, and the sight of him caused something in Yata’s chest to squeeze, pleasure and pain blending within him delightfully. “Didn’t do it on purpose,” he managed to mumble back, resisting the urge to lean in and capture those lips with his own again.

“Mm.” The acknowledgement was almost a moan, Saruhiko’s fingers trembling against the point where the wings emerged from his back. He shifted forward, allowing a bit of space as the batlike wings and smooth horns emerged smoothly on his own back and head.

There was something undeniably hot about doing it like this; Yata couldn’t quite hold back the little involuntary noise that rose unbidden at the back of his throat. He lowered his hips so their erections could come into contact, a tiny jolt of pleasure rewarding the action, and his fingers tightened in Saruhiko’s hair.

“Misaki,” Saruhiko murmured in response, soft and heated and desperate, and their lips bumped and realigned, mouths opening to each other again as they shifted against each other’s bodies in a frenzied search for more contact.

It was weird to feel his wings curl inward as they did, instinctively circling the two of them, but there was something freeing about it. He felt wild and powerful, driven by instinct and desire, taking what he wanted without a care for how messed up it might be. The small circle created by both sets of wings and the solid backing of the tree felt like its own world, a place just for the two of them where nothing else mattered and they didn’t have to deal with any problems.

Saruhiko’s dick was hot and stiff against his, and Yata could already vividly imagine the sensation of it sliding into his body, setting his mind into a frenzy of need. He was ready to use whatever was on hand to make that happen – too far gone to care about the logistics that would’ve mattered outside of this space – but before he could quite act on it, Saruhiko broke their kiss again, pulling back far enough to have space to murmur, “How much do you trust me?”

“Huh?” Yata stared at him, confusion piercing the heady fog that had settled over his brain.

“With this,” Saruhiko clarified, freeing one of his hands and turning it so that a clear gel could manifest in his palm.

“Fuck.” The expulsion was out of his mouth before he could think, throaty and affected. Yata couldn’t help the grin that spread on his lips in response, a little shudder of anticipation running through him as he leaned down to mumble, “I trust you,” against Saruhiko’s lips.

They weren’t patience with the preparation, but it hadn’t been that long since they’d last fucked, so only the bare minimum was necessary anyway. Saruhiko penetrated him right away with three slick fingers, not bothering to be gentle, and Yata pulled on his hair in response, that intoxicating mix of sting and satisfaction coursing through him. They exchanged short, heated kisses as Saruhiko coated his erection, and when he was done and the head of his cock was positioned, Yata lowered himself onto it slowly, shutting his eyes and savoring that thick, delicious burn as their bodies joined yet again.

Saruhiko breathed his name a second time, voice breaking in the middle and fingers tightening on Yata's hips, and the rush of arousal that triggered within him amplified the pleasure even further. Yata moaned low, opening his eyes to take in Saruhiko’s hazy, clouded gaze and slid his shaking fingers up to cup that beautiful face, thumbs running along the line of flushed cheeks.

_Mine._

A wild rush of possessive energy overtook him as he sank to the base of Saruhiko’s dick. With their positioning, he was in more or less complete control and he took advantage of it shamelessly, lifting his body to allow most of the thick length to slip free and then sliding back down indulgently. It felt amazing to draw out the sensation of penetration, and it seemed to drive Saruhiko crazy; as Yata watched hungrily, his eyes slid shut and he made a breathy, helpless noise, almost like a mix between a whine and a moan.

_You’re mine…_

It was intoxicating. Yata curled his fingers around the curve of Saruhiko’s head and began to lift and drop his hips in earnest, leaning in to capture those swollen lips with his own again and parting them insistently with his tongue. _Mine,_ he thought again, with each motion that caused Saruhiko's cock to thrust into his body. _Mine, mine, mine... You're mine, Saruhiko..._

He was lost in the pace and the pleasure, moaning into Saruhiko’s mouth with unrestrained abandon, when he felt the telltale tightening as he hit the tipping point between the gradual build and the rush to climax. Instinctively, he shifted to change the angle as Saruhiko had done frequently before so that his prostate was brushed by the head of Saruhiko’s cock. The rush of sensation had him tensing up, their kiss breaking as a wild cry escaped his lips, and it only took another two desperate, clumsy thrusts before he was coming in a rush, body quivering and voice breaking with the pleasurable release.

Saruhiko squirmed beneath him, a breathy whine escaping him as he thrust his hips as much as he was able, drawing out the sensation to something almost unbearable. And then he stiffened up and began to come as well, his cock twitching and the rest of him trembling violently as he spent himself fully.

Yata let his head drop to rest his forehead against Saruhiko’s as they rode out the last of those shivers in the aftermath, the high of the moment starting to gradually fade. In that instant, he could let himself remain blissfully thoughtless, pleasure still dominating his brain and body.

Only for that one instant.

With the adrenaline rush gone and clarity starting to cut through the haze that had overlaid his thoughts, that sense of something _wrong_ was returning full-force. Yata released Saruhiko’s face, bracing his clammy hands on the bark of the tree behind him as he shakily lifted himself so their bodies would separate. Their eyes met, mutually befuddled as the rush from their orgasms wore off.

His head was a mess of conflicting emotions. That fierce, possessive streak hadn’t entirely faded, and he couldn’t help but feel the urge to lean back down, to _claim_. But at the same time he felt a growing pit in his stomach, a sick feeling that he couldn’t shake. He felt gross and weary, heart aching in a way that he couldn’t help but interpret as a very clear message.

_This isn’t right._

Even as he stared down at Saruhiko’s flushed face, a terrible understanding growing in the clouded gaze they shared, he thought he could pick the exact sticking point out of the chaos of his own thoughts.

_“Leave the contract as it is.”_

“I can’t,” he mumbled out loud, completely certain of the response despite the dazed tone of his own voice. He could feel it in his bones, even if he couldn’t place why just the thought of keeping the contract between them made him feel like his heart and soul had been painfully poisoned.

Saruhiko shut his eyes, breathing in deeply before reopening them. That passive wariness seemed to have slammed back into place, but the resentment in his gaze was still as clear as day. “There’s nothing to talk about, then,” he muttered, bringing up his hands to carefully but firmly push Yata to climb off of him.

Yata complied numbly, feeling bereft as he rolled to sit on the mossy ground. Before all this, it had felt like his heart was breaking – now, it felt like it had been yanked out of his body. He folded forward over his knees with his wings tucked in close, closing his eyes against the sting behind them as Saruhiko moved sharply to clean himself and pull his clothing back into place.

Neither of them said a word. Like Saruhiko had told him, there didn’t seem to be anything they _could_ say.

_“Sometimes disagreements run too deep to just talk out.”_


	17. Chapter 17

Kusanagi’s words were still playing over in Yata’s head hours later when he was lying in his own bed, wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

They’d stayed at the solstice celebration until the end, but he hadn’t been able to put his heart into it. He hadn’t even managed to come up with a good explanation for his subdued mood, snapping at his friends when they asked and spending most of his time standing on the outskirts of lively discussions without saying much or even really listening in most cases. He couldn’t seem to sort out the storm in his thoughts at all, everything jumbling together in a chaotic mess. Kusanagi had shot him a few canny looks but had let him be, and at the end of the night Anna had nearly caused him to lose it simply by catching his eyes and offering a small, sad smile. He didn’t know how much she knew and wasn’t going to ask.

Since their argument, he and Saruhiko had yet to say more to each other than the bare minimum, and it made his chest start to throb with raw pain every time they so much as looked at each other. Yata had taken the second shower after they’d returned to his apartment, and when he’d come out, Saruhiko was already on the futon with his back to the bathroom. There hadn’t been much else he could do besides go to bed himself, leaving the door open in a silent invitation that he knew wouldn’t be taken.

He felt crushed. Like the ground had dropped out from beneath him. It seemed to have happened so fast too: realizing his feelings just moments before having his hopes dashed and then raised and then dashed again. Like an emotional roller coaster, over in what felt like an instant and leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

Then again, everything with Saruhiko had been fast. He’d never felt like this before in his life, and it had been less than a month since he’d done that stupid, drunken summoning. That was all it had taken to fall harder than he’d ever thought he could.

And now it was all going to be over. Before it even really had a chance to start.

And maybe it was better that way – better to find this shit out before they’d gotten themselves in even deeper. Kusanagi was definitely right about that much. Yata still couldn’t think about the idea of keeping the contract going without that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach starting to come back. He didn’t know why, but there was something about it… something he couldn’t compromise on, no matter what. Whatever it was, this was his line in the sand and he wasn’t gonna cross it, not for anyone.

And maybe Saruhiko was on the opposite side, feeling the same way.

This wasn’t getting him anywhere. Yata let out a frustrated breath, rolling over and sitting up. He was tired, but his head wasn’t shutting up and his heart hurt so sharply he was sure he couldn’t sleep through it. He felt restless – unsatisfied. Defeated, but unable to just _let go_.

Well, he was bad at letting things go in the first place.

_I gotta cool my head._ Yata stood, snatching up his shorts so that he could tug them back on and then heading for the door.

Saruhiko was still lying motionless on the futon – asleep or pretending to be; Yata couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter either way. He deliberately didn’t look over as he crept by, not wanting to invite more pain.

Only once he’d left the apartment did he feel like he could breathe properly again. Yata took a couple of cautious steps toward the railing; when it didn’t force the contract to send Saruhiko after him, he sagged against it, letting the air in his lungs out in a rush and hanging his head forward.

If he thought about it clearly, there were a lot of messed-up things between them. He lost his head around Saruhiko. Just a few hours ago, they’d fucked without a condom, and he hadn’t even _noticed_ , much less thought to protest. He just didn’t _do_ shit like that, even if it seemed safe, and somehow Saruhiko didn’t strike him as the type to casually go bareback with a guy he’d known for barely a month. It was like they brought out each other’s most reckless and destructive sides somehow.

But… honestly, Yata fucking _liked_ it. Not so much the destruction, but the feeling of letting go – of _being_ _reckless_. He didn’t wanna make a habit of it when it came to safe sex or anything, but one of the things he liked best about Saruhiko was how strong the emotional pull was – and how easy it was to get swept away and feel everything so intensely. Moderating his emotions was a lot of work, and he had to do it most of the time in his daily life. Having someone he could let loose around was freeing. Intoxicating, even.

It came with a price, though – and if they were somehow gonna make things work, they’d have to find a way to temper that destructive side. They needed to be on the same page.

Right then, they really weren’t. That was why things were such a mess, and it hurt so badly.

_What the hell bugs me so much about the contract thing, anyway?_ Yata opened his eyes, frowning down at the closely mowed lawn beneath him as he mulled it over. Up to that point, he hadn't had the space to think about it. It was the contract that had brought them together and forced them into close proximity until they’d realized just how much they enjoyed each other’s company. Without it, they’d probably never have even met, and if it hadn’t been the way it was, they’d have ended it without getting to know each other at all.

But still, he felt really strongly that he didn't want it. Not like this...

_Why not?_ Because it was inconvenient? Because there were times when he didn't want to be around Saruhiko or Saruhiko didn't want to be around him, but they couldn’t escape each other? Those were pretty good reasons, but he had a feeling it was more than that. His reaction was gut-twistingly bad. It made him feel raw, like it touched an old sore spot. But he wasn’t sure _what_.

There was no question he wanted Saruhiko – wanted a _real_ relationship – and Saruhiko had said he wanted it too. That was why he wanted Yata to keep the contract going, right? So they could be together. Didn't that make sense?

If he closed his eyes, he could see the uncharacteristic desperation on Saruhiko's face as he spoke in that moment – _"Show me how much you’re demanding of me."_ – and it made his heart start to pound in his chest. Not only because it was thrilling to see Saruhiko like that, to have him be so intense about what he wanted from Yata, but because it spoke to him. It was another of those moments where he felt the connection between them – the similarity. Because he also felt that he wanted... to be sure...

_Oh._

There it was – that flash of realization. Yata felt it sinking in, like a physical cut aimed directly at his heart, the prickles spreading out from that open wound.

So that was why it felt so gut-wrenching.

_It was really just something that simple, huh?_ Yata closed his eyes for a moment as he let the reality of it settle in his mind, tilting his head up so he could open them to look at the moon for a bit of comfort. It almost hurt worse to know the truth – made it that much more final knowing there really was no compromising on his part – but at least he had a good grasp on the whole thing.

It kinda made him wonder, though... Maybe there was a chance... If Saruhiko really felt the same way he did, there could be something...

The door behind him opened, as if his thoughts had summoned it, and Yata's skin prickled. He resisted the urge to turn around, hands clenching unconsciously into fists. “What? Contract pulled you out here?”

For a moment, he thought he wasn’t going to get an answer. Then he heard the telltale click of Saruhiko's tongue. “No. Your emotions are keeping me up.”

_You and me both._ Yata managed a bitter smile. “My bad.” He forced his fingers to unclench and made an effort to keep his voice low and even. “Can’t help it right now.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again; when he responded, his voice was a mumble, as if he were speaking more to himself than to Yata. “I guess.”

The conversation was painfully awkward – or maybe ‘awkwardly painful’ was a better way to put it. Yata pushed himself away from the railing, abruptly sick of it, and turned around to stubbornly meet Saruhiko’s gaze. “Hey,” he started, trying not to get caught up in the way his pulse started to race at the sight of those blue-grey eyes glittering in the dark, “there’s still a place I go to sometimes that I never showed you. Wanna check it out?”

Saruhiko blinked, brows furrowing slightly as he stared back, as if he wasn’t sure where this was going or whether he wanted any part of it. “Do I have a choice?” he muttered, after a brief moment of silence.

Yata managed a lopsided grin. “I’m giving you one right now.”

There was another pause, and it was almost possible to see the wheels turning in Saruhiko’s head as he thought it over. Yata held his breath, the tension in the moment nearly overwhelming. _Come on,_ he thought, not bothering to temper the hope that was swelling in his heart. _Give it a chance. Just one try. Please._

Tomorrow would be their last day together; it was now or never.

At last, Saruhiko shut his eyes, shoulders sagging as he let out what sounded like a defeated sigh. “It can’t be any worse than lying awake all night _here_.”

It was a shitty, half-assed confirmation – but still a confirmation. The relief was so strong that Yata nearly felt giddy with it. His grin widened, feeling real instead of half-pained. “All right!” It didn't have his usual enthusiasm; hell, he didn't know if this was gonna get them anywhere, but he had to at least make things clear. So he knew for sure. _“_ Let’s go back in and I’ll make us invisible.”

“Should you really be announcing that so loudly?” Saruhiko drawled back, but he moved aside obligingly so Yata could unlock the door for them.

It was such a typical tone that something inside Yata clenched, partly with pain and partly with pleasure. “Yeah, yeah.”

It was a relief to be in the air again afterwards, although he hadn’t felt that way when they’d flown home from the solstice celebration. His thoughts and feelings had been in such a mess, though. Now, even though it was painful, things at least seemed sorted in his head. Yata shut his eyes against the night breeze, gathering his resolve.

If he accomplished nothing else, at least he could make sure _both_ of them understood this before they went their separate ways.

The building they landed on was near the center of the city – not quite at the heart, but pretty close. It was one of a number of skyscrapers in the area, but it stood out a little by having a domed glass roof, which was tinted but could still be seen through just a bit when they were close enough, the outline of a rooftop garden-like area just barely visible in the places where the moonlight wasn't reflecting too strongly to catch a glimpse.

Yata settled on a point where two of the support beams crossed at the top of the curve, lowering himself to sit down but not bothering to pull his wings in. He looked out at the view of the city – lit up in the commercial districts and dark in most of the residential, all of it outlined by moonlight and offset by shadow – and felt the usual sense of grounding settle within him. “This is where I go when I’m feeling... y’know.” He shrugged, not bothering to look to see what Saruhiko was doing. “Like I did when I summoned you.”

Lonely. Overwhelmed. Stifled. Alone.

It helped to be somewhere quiet, if nothing else.

There was another brief pause, followed by a sigh. “I’m surprised it wasn't one of the charging points,” Saruhiko responded wryly. He didn't move to sit, but he was still beside Yata, not moving away. Listening.

That was comforting, at least. Yata managed a rueful little smile, and steeled himself to just get right to it. “Listen,” he started, “about before... when you asked me not to break the contract. I thought about it – why I had that reaction, I mean – and I wanna make it clear.” At that, he turned his head to look up at Saruhiko, setting his jaw stubbornly. “It’s not because I don't want you.”

No obvious reaction. Saurhiko wasn't meeting his gaze, looking out instead over the city. His expression was characteristically neutral. “Mm.”

Yata took that as a signal to continue. “Obviously I do. You saw how I...” The reminder of his possessive aggression in that moment made his face grow hot; he reached up without thinking to scratch at the back of his head. “Yeah, anyway. I really wanna be with you.” As he said the words, he could feel his own sincerity behind them almost like a tangible thing – could vividly remember all the little moments when they'd talked and the nights of playing games – and a surge of longing rose up at the back of his throat, sudden and overwhelming. “I want it so bad,” he managed to get out, trying to ignore the thickness that had crept into his voice. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I really… I mean, you’re… important to me.” Somehow, it was too much to say the word ‘love’; the hurt was too fresh. “But not like this. I can't...”

It was hard to get the words out through the emotion clogging his chest. Yata swallowed, trying to collect himself, and made another attempt. “You wanted me to prove I want you, right?” Without waiting for Saruhiko to reply – if he even planned to – he rushed right ahead with the rest. “Well, I also wanna know for sure that you want _me_.”

At that, he seemed to get a reaction; Saruhiko's lips parted, an audible intake of breath coming from him. He finally turned to meet Yata's gaze, seemingly caught off guard by that simple fact.

Yata followed up on his advantage. “If it’s like this, with you tied to me, you gotta be here whether you want to or not.” Even just bringing it up had that sick feeling building in his gut; he shook his head, turning to frown out at the city. “I can’t do that, Saruhiko. I wanna look at you when you're beside me and know that you're there because you _want_ to be. Not because you're forced to be.”

The silence that followed those words was heavy.

The finality of it – actually saying it rather than just knowing – sat heavily on Yata's heart. That was it, really. If Saruhiko couldn't accept that, then there wasn't anything else he could do to make this work. He waited for a moment to see if there'd be a response; when there wasn’t, he deflated a little, some of the hope that he'd allowed to grow in his heart dying. "Just had to say it," he muttered, shoulders sagging a bit. He was caught between wanting to look up – to see Saruhiko's reaction, whatever it was – and his pride trying to prevent him from breaking down altogether. “Also... about that other stuff you said. Y’know, me just wanting whoever because I was lonely?” He let out a small, humorless chuckle. “I wasn’t lonely because I wanted someone who had to be around me all the time. What I wanted – what I _want_ – is someone I can be excited to come home to. Someone who’s got his own shit going on outside of me, and gets that I’ve got shit going on outside of him too. Someone who makes me feel comfortable but still challenges and thrills me. Like I said, it can't be just anyone." Swallowing down the surge of emotion, he added, low and shaky, “And I want it to be you.”

Beside him, Saruhiko let out a shaky-sounding exhale. "Misaki," he mumbled, low and unsteady – but if he'd planned to say something after, it didn’t come out.

The tone of his voice was enough to make up Yata’s mind; feeling emboldened, he looked over and met Saruhiko's gaze. Those blue-grey eyes he loved so much had a starved sort of look in them – not the wild, manic edge from hours before, but something softer... Lost, maybe. It tugged at his heart, the ache pleasant and painful all at once.

It made him want to try one more time – even if he looked stupid or clingy. His pride wasn't more important than this. “You can’t really want this contract, right, Saruhiko?” It was impossible to keep the hopeful note out of his voice. “You got a life that I'm not part of – people you miss, stuff you wanna do. Don’t you wanna keep doing that, seeing them, and come home to me too?”

Saruhiko stared at him for another moment, looking as if he were seeing him for the first time, and then exhaled in a rush, shutting his eyes. Before Yata could think to question what that meant, he slumped down to sit on the beam as well, shoulders sagging. It was that same defeated posture from earlier, but it felt somehow less... resigned.

Like he was letting go of something this time rather than accepting a burden.

“How the hell do you do that?” Saruhiko muttered, shaking his head slightly before opening his eyes again to meet Yata’s gaze. The corners of his mouth edged up into a rueful smile, contributing to the weary but fond expression on his face. “You act headstrong and careless, but you can still come up with a way to put it that just...” He shook his head. “You know. Something about you gets under my skin. When you summoned me…” At that point, he hesitated, and then clicked his tongue. “Well, not like it matters if you know. I felt it – your loneliness, I mean.”

Yata blinked at him, thrown off by the sudden admission. “Eh?”

“The emotional link opens before we accept the contract,” Saruhiko explained, voice wry. “Normally I wouldn’t have taken a contract without an end date or timeframe.” He offered that funny little smile again, expression strangely helpless. “Somehow, when I connected with you… it was like the rational part of my brain stopped. I moved without even thinking.” He let out a soft, resigned-sounding huff, shutting his eyes. “That’s how much you’ve always affected me, right from the start.”

It struck a familiar chord. Staring back, Yata couldn’t help but think back to all those times he’d felt that solidarity between them – the sense of their feelings synchronizing – and the confession made perfect sense. More than before, a fierce longing swelled within him; the precious nature of their connection striking him all at once as it sank in.

That loneliness he’d felt – Saruhiko had felt it too, and recognized it straight away.

If they separated now… Yata swallowed around the lump in his throat, feeling his chest constrict. It felt like they’d lose a chance at something amazing. Something he wanted to grow into, and learn to cherish.

_Please, Saruhiko…_

As if in response to that desperation, Saruhiko was opening his eyes again, the little smile fading on his lips as he regarded Yata with something like uncertainty. “Misaki,” he started, voice low, and took in what sounded like a ragged, painful breath. “I want them too. Those things you said... All of them.”

The sting of tears hitting his eyes felt like catharsis. Yata couldn't help the choked noise, half laugh and half sob, that escaped his throat. Saruhiko's face blurred in front of him and he scrubbed furiously at his eyes, blinking to clear his vision as best he could. “Yeah,” he managed to get out roughly, and reached out without stopping to check himself.

The sudden happiness that burst within him when Saruhiko met him partway was nearly overwhelming.

It wasn’t a skilled or passionate kiss, but it felt so good that Yata’s heart seemed to sing within his chest. Their lips met, parted briefly, and connected again; they were both obviously trembling with the emotion behind it. He had his fingers braced at the back of Saruhiko’s neck and Saruhiko’s hand cupping his face, and he couldn’t tell where most of the tremors originated. The breath between them was ragged and as they leaned into each other, Saruhiko’s hand found his on the beam between them and gripped it tightly – a hold that Yata returned with equal force.

He couldn’t remember ever being this happy before in his life. He didn’t want the moment to end.

Eventually, of course, it had to; they pulled back after a few moments, panting and reluctant, and when Yata opened his eyes, Saruhiko’s were fluttering open in the same moment. Their gazes locked, and the smile that tugged at his lips was mirrored back to him, slow and hesitant, on Saruhiko’s.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but after a while Saruhiko drew in another of those shaky breaths and let his fingers trail from Yata’s face, leaving shivers in their wake. He wrapped his arm around Yata’s shoulders instead, drawing him in with unexpected force and mumbling next to his ear a very quiet, “Sorry.”

Yata felt his smile widening at that, eyes stinging dangerously. He wriggled his own arm free to return the awkward embrace. “S’okay.”

There was another lengthy, comfortable pause as they let that moment run its course, and then Saruhiko drew back, meeting Yata’s gaze again with lidded eyes and notable hesitation that he was clearly trying to mask. “Now what?”

“Now… we got time, right?” Yata gave his hand a squeeze, feeling light-headed. Possibilities were beginning to form in his head – the future spreading out bright and full of promise in front of him. “And I got your number – summoning circle, I mean.” He grinned. “We can figure this shit out together.”

Saruhiko shut his eyes, letting out a short, amused huff, and squeezed back. When he opened them again, that fond expression was back on his face, making Yata’s heart skip a beat. “I guess we can,” he murmured, and leaned in again until their lips almost touched before drawling, “later.”

They were both smiling into the kiss that followed.


	18. Chapter 18

The fully charged moonstone felt hot in Yata’s pocket as he stepped into the lobby of Munakata’s office building.

It had been like that since the afternoon, when they’d completed the final charge – a comforting sort of heat that gave him the impression of sunlight sinking into his body. At the same time, he could feel the sense of the stone’s own identity, cool and inviting, as a contrast. It was sorta like the completed charge had given it a new aspect, drawing out a side of its personality that had been suppressed before.

“Since when does a stone have a personality?” Saruhiko had drawled when he’d voiced that thought as they wrapped up their moonlight charging.

Yata had shrugged it off. “You just don’t get it.”

“I’m fine with that,” Saruhiko had agreed dryly. “It’s enough trouble keeping up with sentient beings – I don’t need to consider the feelings of rocks on top of that.” A slight pause had followed, and then he’d added reluctantly, “This one does feel different now, though.”

That had been enough to draw a grin from Yata. “Told ya.”

“I already regret saying anything.”

The exchange had been somewhat subdued; they’d already said their personal goodbyes before flying out to Munakata’s office building for that last charge. After a lengthy discussion and putting together what seemed like a solid plan for how they’d see each other going forward, neither of them had wanted to draw out what remained of this flawed contract, so the decision had been to cut it off cleanly and start on the new arrangement as soon as possible. It meant a few days apart before Yata would summon Saruhiko again, but that was something they were going to have to get used to, regardless.

“I probably need to clean up a bunch of messes at work anyway,” Saruhiko had said easily, his fingers playing idly with Yata’s on the mattress between them. They had done most of their talking like that, enjoying the closeness and comfort it allowed. “There’s only so much you can do remotely.”

Yata had huffed out a brief laugh in response, turning his hand so their fingers could entwine. “Bet it’s not as bad as you think.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “It’s probably worse.”

“You’re just too damn fussy.”

Truthfully, he was gonna have some catching up to do, too; he’d had way too many unplanned days off already, and there was still rent and bills to take care of. Plus, he missed going to Homra more often. Basically, life went on – they’d just have to keep up as best they could.

He didn’t mind shifting some stuff around to make room for this new thing between them, though. It was worth putting in the effort to make it work.

“This is it, huh?” Saruhiko mused, as Yata pressed the elevator button in Munakata’s office building. His expression was relaxed when their eyes met, a small rueful upturn to his lips the only indication of his emotions. “Ready to end it?”

“Ready to _start_ it,” Yata corrected him, smirking in response – and got the satisfaction of seeing that tiny upturn grow to a real smile in response.

“I guess you’re right about that.”

Munakata was waiting for them when they made their way down, still seated behind his office desk despite the late hour and with a smile on his face that looked entirely too self-satisfied for Yata’s taste. “My, my,” he commented when they stepped through the door. “How unexpected to see the two of you at this hour, and after such a lengthy absence.” He leaned forward in his chair, studying them with interest. “I was beginning to think that perhaps some trouble prevented you from coming.”

Yata snorted. “Yeah, well, you thought wrong.” ‘Trouble’ was probably not the right word for it, but he wasn’t gonna explain more than he had to. “And talking about the hour, how about you, huh? D’you just sit here constantly or what?”

The smile on Munakata’s face widened marginally, but he didn’t respond to the question. “Judging by the timing of this visit, I expect the charges have been completed.” He glanced back and forth between them. “Is that a fair assumption?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, even as Yata scowled. “Why do you bother to ask when you already know the answer?”

“Call it a professional courtesy,” Munakata responded smoothly. He bridged his hands in front of him. “And how did you find the experience of charging them, if I may be so bold as to ask?”

Yata glanced at Saruhiko, and found his gaze returned. Somehow, just the simple act of making eye contact had his skin prickling and heart picking up a notch. He couldn’t help the wry smile spreading on his face, and was gratified to note how the corners of Saruhiko’s mouth turned up in response. “Pain in the ass,” he answered glibly, letting that smile build to a smirk as he turned his head forward again.

“Unnecessarily complicated,” Saruhiko added dryly – but the amusement in his tone was clear.

“I see.” Munakata shut his eyes for a moment, letting out a soft chuckle as if in response to some private joke. When he opened them again, his gaze was strangely fond. “It would appear that the two of you have exceeded my expectations.” Lowering his hands, he pushed himself gracefully up from his seat. “Congratulations are thus in order.”

Yata blinked, taken aback. “Eh?”

Saruhiko recovered more quickly, clicking his tongue. “You haven’t even seen the results yet.”

Munakata smiled beatifically, moving around the desk to face them. He was a tall man, which Yata more or less knew from the few times they’d faced each other when he _wasn’t_ sitting at his office desk – but it still irked him all the same. “If you would be so kind as to present them, then.”

That was a cue he could understand. Yata reached into his pocket to grasp the moonstone. He felt a strange reluctance as he drew it out, a tiny hint of loss at being asked to part with it. _Probably because of… yeah._ Saying goodbye wasn’t easy, even if it wouldn’t be permanent. Despite the feeling, he held out his hand without hesitation, opening his fingers to reveal the stone on his palm. A second or so later, he noticed Saruhiko doing the same beside him.

Munakata studied the two of them for only a brief second before nodding his approval. “Set them on my desk for now,” he instructed. “I will have Awashima-kun carry them on to their next destination once her time permits.”

_Next destination?_ The thought jumped into his head just before Saruhiko asked, “Where are they going?”

“It need not concern you for now.” The response was easy but firm; clearly, the subject was off-limits. Munakata waited while they followed his instruction, and then went on. “Before I proceed to void the contract, did you have any farewells to make?”

_Already done._ Once again, Yata glanced at Saruhiko – and once again, he found Saruhiko meeting his eyes. This time, it was a full grin that spread on his face. “See ya,” he offered casually.

Saruhiko lowered his eyelids, the smile on his face reflecting Yata’s satisfaction back at him. “Mm,” he returned, and then in that casual drawl added, “See you.”

It was as simple as that, but it felt like a promise all the same.

“Very well, then.” Munakata stepped forward, extending his arms to press his index finger to each of their foreheads.

The touch was light, but Yata felt the surge of energy that flooded him very clearly. He shut his eyes instinctively against it, sucking in a breath sharply – and when he opened them again, Saruhiko was no longer standing beside him.

The sense of sudden loss was sharper than he expected. Yata swallowed, staring for a moment at the spot where Saruhiko had been. This was the way they’d planned it, and he was still sure it was the best way, but he felt the ache that came from parting all the same. Now that it came down to it and they had to go their separate ways for real… he couldn’t help but feel a bit lonely.

_I’ll see him again,_ he reminded himself, trying to shake off that mood. It wouldn’t be long, and they had their whole lives ahead of them to work out any potential problems.

“This occasion puts me in mind of a particular sentiment I’ve heard expressed frequently.” When Yata looked up, Munakata was studying him keenly. “All good things must end in time.”

“Heh.” Yata shook his head. “You got it wrong – it’s not the end.” He offered a smirk, feeling his earlier optimism returning. “This good thing is just getting started!”

Munakata shut his eyes, a small mysterious smile on his lips. “Well said,” he responded simply.

 

 

Saturday nights, Yata always made sure he was home early.

It wasn’t like he could summon Saruhiko right away. They’d had long talks – and occasional arguments – over the logistics of their arrangement, but one of the agreements they’d hammered out was around timing. Saruhiko was always irritable if he responded to a summon when he’d been in the middle of work, even if he tried to hide it. It had required some trial and error and a certain amount of strain at first, but eventually they’d knocked the rough edges off of the process. They both made an effort to be ready at whatever time they’d agreed on – no “spontaneous” early summons and no “voluntary” overtime.

After months of pressing the point, he’d finally convinced Saruhiko that it was no big deal to just refuse the summon if he was in the middle of something urgent, and Yata would try again in an hour. There was no point if they couldn’t relax and enjoy themselves.

_Feels like he doesn’t really get the whole relaxing thing._ But that was changing too.

Slowly, surely, they’d been smoothing things out. Yata couldn’t help but smile when he thought about it, the pleasant anticipation he always felt when he thought about seeing Saruhiko again coursing through him as he stepped through the door into his apartment. It wasn’t perfect, and it would’ve been better if they could just move in together without the limitations – and complications – of a binding contract, but they were making it work.

Maybe someday they’d figure out something better, but for now, he was content with what they had.

Either way, the main reason he came home early was to make sure he had time to eat and shower before drawing up the summoning circle. And today there was an extra reason he’d been eager to get back, one that had him kicking off his shoes with even more enthusiasm than before. In front of him on the table, the wrapped box he’d brought home several days ago was still sitting there, reminding him of the occasion.

_A whole year since then, huh?_ Plus a few days, since they’d agreed to stick to their regular Saturday rather than try to hit the exact date. But yeah, a year ago he’d summoned Saruhiko unexpectedly and kicked off this whole business.

It was worth celebrating, for sure.

Yata had been thinking about what to get for a while, and finally settled on a set of coffee mugs – specifically, two of the mugs used for customers at Hakumaitou, which had cost him a lot more from his stash than he’d expected. They were plain off-white, but he’d gone out and gotten their names engraved in bold print – ‘Saruhiko’ in blue on one and ‘Misaki’ in red on the other.

Saruhiko would have to leave his here and only use it when he visited, from Saturday night to Monday morning, but Yata kinda thought the sentiment was fitting. He had a fresh bag of Hakumaitou’s special coffee, too – and hope of flying out for a view of the city from ‘their’ spot at some point during the night.

It was all pretty low-key, but it suited them. He was really looking forward to it.

Yata had just finished cleaning up after his dinner, about to move the table aside so he could start drawing up the summoning circle, when there was a knock at his door.

_What the hell?_ He frowned, hesitating for a second. Usually he didn’t get many visitors. Sometimes one of his friends would drop by if they were in the area, but everyone knew Saturdays were off-limits, and he’d mentioned the anniversary too.

_The landlord?_ It would be unusual, but it had happened. _Well, only one way to find out._ Yata hurried forward and swung the door open.

His skin prickled, mouth falling open as shock paralyzed him. All he could do for a moment was stare.

_How…?_

Saruhiko returned his gaze, shifting on his feet in a slight, awkward motion. His shoulders were a bit hunched and his expression was oddly hesitant. “I don’t have a key to your place,” he drawled, after a moment of startled silence.

Yata blinked, recovering from his stupor – and then blinked twice more in rapid succession, double checking that he was really seeing this. “Wh-why are you here?” he managed to stammer out after another awkward pause, too stunned to react in any other way.

There was no way a demon could come to this plane without a contract. So…?

“I’m not on someone else’s contract, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Saruhiko told him dryly, and glanced around, clicking his tongue lightly. “Can I come in? I’d rather not explain while standing on your doorstep.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that. “Yeah, right.” Yata bit back his impatience and moved aside, holding the door so that Saruhiko could step past him and remove his boots.

As soon as the door shut, he gave in to a sudden impulse and moved forward to wrap his arms around Saruhiko’s waist from behind, pressing his chest against that thin back. He lifted his face to bury his nose in the space between Saruhiko’s shoulder blades, inhaling deeply to take in the familiar scent, and mumbled, “Happy anniversary.”

Saruhiko had momentarily frozen in the unexpected hold, but relaxed almost immediately, a short contented sigh escaping him at the words. “Happy anniversary, Misaki,” he murmured, setting his hands over Yata’s arms to return the awkward embrace as best he could.

They stayed like that for another moment or two, just enjoying each other’s presence, before Yata’s curiosity got the better of him and he broke away, stepping around Saruhiko to look him properly in the face. “Okay, now spill it! How the hell are you here?”

Saruhiko shrugged, the motion seeming somehow awkward as his posture shifted slightly. It was a small change, but Yata could see a certain amount of nervous tension in the way he was standing. “Apparently we can be granted clearance to come here under certain circumstances.” He didn’t want for Yata to ask. “I’m here to propose a new contract to you.”

Something about the way he said it had a little shiver running through Yata’s body – and not an unpleasant one. _Get a grip._ He swallowed it back, managing to grin in response. “Oh yeah? Let’s hear it.”

“It’s not really a standard contract.” Saruhiko reached into his pocket, movements unusually sharp and jerky. “The terms are a little unusual. Technically, it doesn’t have an end date, but it’s not… exactly like before.” When he pulled his hand out, his fingers were closed around whatever he’d grabbed. “In exchange for sharing your energy, this is what I’m offering.”

His hand was noticeably unsteady when he slowly opened it, but that wasn’t what caught Yata’s immediate attention. Even before he could see what was there, the almost-forgotten sense of captured sunlight and moonlight had his breath catching in his throat sharply, recognition hitting like a truck – and when his vision caught up with his other sense, that same breath escaped him in a sudden rush.

The stones they’d charged together had been somehow shaped into solid, thick-banded rings.

_How?_ It had been a year already, and he couldn’t imagine how they’d held their charge for so long, much less been forged so perfectly into this shape. The luster was even preserved, and he could feel the same energy…

And… they were rings, so…

So.

Yata took in another breath. “Saruhiko…”

“I made a deal with the Captain,” Saruhiko cut him off. When Yata looked up, he was met with a wary, tentative sort of gaze. “I’m guessing he planned this from the start, since his condition was for me to take on some jobs for him on this plane. If we’re contracted like this, I’ll be able to move back and forth between the two planes, which makes me a convenient resource.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s kind of irritating when you fall into his pace, but it can’t be helped. Not like I was going to turn him down.”

Yata _seriously_ didn’t want to think about Munakata in that moment. “Right, sure, I get it,” he agreed impatiently, eyes dropping to the rings again. There was a fierce anticipation building in the pit of his belly. “What are you offering here?”

Saruhiko shifted again, if anything looking even more awkward. “The contract is in the rings,” he mumbled. “Either one of us can end it any time if we throw it away or give it back – that’s what you wanted, right?” Once again, without waiting for an answer, he added, “It’s… also what I want. To be with you.” When Yata raised his gaze again, it was in time to catch a telling hint of red spreading across Saruhiko’s pale cheeks. “If you’ll have me.”

“Are you kidding me?” Yata could feel traitorous tears welling up in his eyes, elation bubbling up through his entire body. He reached out to close his hand over Saruhiko’s, feeling the comforting glow of the rings between their fingers, and leaned in to capture a fierce kiss, pouring all of his happiness into the motion. When they broke apart, he smirked, letting his eyes go lidded. “Course I’ll have you, dumbass – why the hell else would I put up with you for a whole year?”

“Who knows.” The tremor in Saruhiko’s voice belied the mocking drawl he was trying to go for, but he smiled back, relaxing enough to lean his forehead against Yata’s and shutting his eyes to let out a shaky sigh before adding, “Maybe you’re just a masochist.”

“Pretty sure that’s you, you fucking gloomy-ass workaholic!” Yata didn’t bother holding the deep affection back from his voice; it came out throaty, but he didn’t care, staring deeply into Saruhiko’s eyes when he opened them again and feeling fierce contentment fill him. “So this… this means you’re staying, right? You’ll live here?”

“That’s the idea.” Saruhiko freed his hand and the rings, leaning back far enough to take hold of Yata’s left hand and holding the moonstone ring up between his fingers. He hesitated, watching Yata’s face keenly. “Do you accept the contract?”

He knew enough now to guess that this required a clear answer. “Yeah,” he responded seriously, returning the gaze with all the conviction he could throw into it. “I accept it, Saruhiko.”

The sensation that poured into him when the ring was slipped onto his finger was achingly familiar; Yata felt the sting of tears once again at the welcoming pulse of warmth and sunlight. There was a different energy behind it now, too – heavy and full of promise.

It matched how he was feeling right then. “Here.” Yata reached out to take the sunstone ring. “Let me.” It was given up to him without any resistance, and he picked up Saruhiko’s left hand, glancing up. “Do you? Accept it, I mean.”

Saruhiko’s eyes were half-mast; the tiny smile already on his face widened ever so slightly. “Yes, Misaki. I accept.”

When he slid the ring home, he wasn’t prepared for the sudden shift in the energy of the room – a kind of ‘click’, as if something had just fallen into place. And then alongside his own happiness, he could feel another, separate sense of joy – and something like triumph.

Yata jerked his gaze up, startled. “Wait – Saruhiko – is this…?”

The smile on Saruhiko’s face widened into a smirk. “Right, I forgot to mention,” he drawled. “Since the contract is in the rings and you happen to be wearing one, the emotion-sharing goes both ways.”

“How the hell could you forget to mention, you – ?” Yata cut off there, feeling the little trickle of smug amusement from that other source, and shook his head ruefully. _Well, not like I mind._ Still, it was stronger than he would’ve expected, the blend of relief and happiness and contentment. Almost overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It matched his own feelings perfectly. “Seriously, you gotta warn me about this shit!”

Saruhiko gazed at him through his lashes, that little smirk lingering on his lips. “That would’ve spoiled the surprise.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He had to admit, it was a good surprise – on top of everything else, it felt satisfying to have things go both ways between them. It would probably take a little while to get used to, but he was gonna enjoy every second. Yata grinned back. “You’re a liar, by the way. You said you’d never felt emotions like mine, remember? But yours seem just as strong to me right now!”

The sense of contentment only increased – he couldn’t tell if it was Saruhiko’s or his. Maybe both. It didn’t really matter, either way. “I learned from the best,” Saruhiko murmured, and leaned in to capture Yata’s lips again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who followed this fic all the way through! I'm both satisfied and sad to have finally posted the ending... I hope you all enjoy it, and enjoyed the journey it took to get here - please let me know what you think in the comments if you're feeling up to it!


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